


A Horcrux's Fate

by Khauro



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: Affection, Aftermath, Aftermath of Possession, Aftermath of Violence, Angst and Drama, Best Friends, Canon Compliant, Canon Related, Canon Universe, Death Eaters, Department of Mysteries, Developing Relationship, Draco Malfoy Redemption, Enemies to Friends, Established Relationship, F/M, Friendship, Good Draco Malfoy, Grief/Mourning, Harry Potter is a Horcrux, Hermione Granger is a Good Friend, Horcruxes, Hurt/Comfort, James Potter & Lily Evans Potter Live, Love/Hate, Major Illness, Minor Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Minor Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Near Death Experiences, Original Character Death(s), Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Post-Canon, Post-Hogwarts, Post-War, Ron Weasley is a Good Friend, Search for a Cure, Sick Character, Sick Harry, Sick Harry Potter, St Mungo's Hospital, Survival, The Burrow (Harry Potter), The Golden Trio, The Golden Trio Era (Harry Potter), Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:41:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 123,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23871769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Khauro/pseuds/Khauro
Summary: (COMPLETE) Harry Potter triumphed over the final battle against Lord Voldemort, but just as everything appears peaceful, he soon realized that it isn't over as it seemed. Something deep inside him feels wounded and is drastically withering away—a sign that his life is in grave danger. The truth of being a Horcrux will set off a chain of events that'll test his strength and will to survive. But the question is, how far will Harry have to go before he accepts his grim fate?
Relationships: Arthur Weasley/Molly Weasley, Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Comments: 32
Kudos: 78





	1. Chapter 1

A cool, twilight breeze swept past Harry Potter's still form as he sat outside the Hogwarts grounds. He stared with contentment and relief beyond the great lake where a soft glowing light emanated from the waters creating a beautiful reflection of the setting sun. It was always a sight to see, and each time he would find himself totally lost in its beauty. But even the magnificent view couldn't bring peace to his heart, and he was brought back from his reverie. His right hand subconsciously went up to his chest as he took several deep and shaky breaths.

Ever since the battle of Hogwarts a fortnight ago, he'd started to feel a dull pain between his lungs. It started off as a faint tugging feeling right in the middle where his heart was, which he'd disregarded up until this moment. The feeling never stayed for long, but it would come and go as fast as lightning. Today was different; the pain lingered for several minutes and then was gone again. He knew there was something terribly wrong, and no one knew about this except him. He was adamant in his decision of not telling anybody until he'd gained knowledge of what it was, but then again, he didn't know _how_ to figure out what it was. He could probably read some medical books in the library, but it was impossible to get access to at the moment due to it being blown apart from the battle. Or maybe he could ask his best friend, Hermione Granger's opinion or Madam Pomfrey's, but he didn't want to bother them if he could help it for now.

A soft tap on his shoulder brought him back from his thoughts. He looked up and saw Ginny. Her smile would always render some sort of relief to whatever he was feeling. He smiled back and put his hand down from his chest. She didn't miss the momentary pained expression on his face before he returned the smile.

Ginny placed her hand to his cheek and caressed it gently. Harry instantly closed his eyes to relish her warm touch.

"Are you okay?" she asked, a look of worry etched onto her face.

He opened his eyes and looked at her. He debated whether to mention what he'd been feeling a few minutes before or not and decided the latter was best for the meantime.

"I'm fine, Ginny." He squeezed her hand as he said it, trying to cover his worries with a small smile and hoping that it would suffice.

"Harry, you know I don't buy that answer." Ginny knew him so well that she could tell if he was hiding something. She eyed him anxiously and continued. "You look like you were in pain earlier; you were rubbing your chest."

Harry lowered his head and glanced back at the slowly dimming horizon with a sinking feeling. He didn't want her, or anybody else, to start worrying about him. They'd won the war against Voldemort and all the worries, pain, and hurt they had experienced for all those years had been dealt with. Harry wanted it to stay that way. After all, they each deserved a worry-free and happy life in exchange for what they'd been through, but some things never really ended well in his life. This realization hit him with a heavy heart and there was only one thing left for him: he had to accept whatever his fate was.

"Harry," Ginny called out to him once again when he didn't respond. "Whatever it is that's worrying you… you can tell me and we'll deal with it. You know that, don't you?" she placed her hand on his back in the hope that she could somehow comfort him.

It was a moment before he answered. Ripples of cold undulated over his skin.

"I'm scared, Ginny," Harry whispered. "I -" The suffocating feeling extinguished the end of the sentence; he could not go on.

Ginny looked frightened all of a sudden. "Why? What's wrong?"

Harry's throat tightened instinctively. He tried not to be scared, tried not to think that something bad was about to happen or that there might be a problem he couldn't solve. He felt his fingers trembling slightly and made an effort to control them, but he couldn't.

"Harry, please talk to me." She felt her fear grow with each passing minute.

Harry shook his head. "I really can't say."

"What do you mean you can't say?" she asked. If there was one thing that would worry her too much, that would be Harry's unwillingness to say what was on his mind, especially when things were already getting worse. "Harry… please tell me what's wrong."

Harry was quiet for a long time as he gave the question careful thought. He didn't really want to say anything until he was sure of it, but he couldn't keep Ginny in the dark either. He loved her so much that he couldn't stand not telling her even though he knew it would break her. Harry had always felt that Ginny was a strong girl who was capable of handling situations really well. Her warmth and compassion were also two of the reasons why he wanted to be with her, not only as her boyfriend but as her husband someday if his fate would allow it. He wanted nothing but to make her happy, especially now that everyone was celebrating, but he couldn't do it with the problem he was facing right now. He couldn't do it because of the bad news he wanted to reveal so badly but failed to do so.

Harry took her hand and held it tightly. "I'm sorry, Ginny, but I need more time to know what's really going on before I tell you. I don't want to plunge in headfirst and tell you something I am not sure of."

Ginny let out a deep sigh. "I always admired your bravery, Harry. You always keep things to yourself and deal with it on your own. Whatever it is you're scared of, I'm sure you can get through it like always, but there are times when you have to let people in to help you out."

Harry didn't say anything. He didn't want them to worry, and it made him so desperate to find the answers before it was too late. Before anyone else found out. At least knowing what it was firsthand wouldn't hurt, and dealing with it later would surely break him, but he wanted to have a normal life and now was the chance to do just that.

He held on tightly to Ginny's warm hand as though it was the only thing that gave him hope. Despite the years that had passed since he'd first seen her, the effect she had on him had only grown stronger, and he didn't want to let it go.

Even though Ginny didn't have a clue on what was going on in Harry's mind, she completely respected his silence. She sat next to him as he watched her bring her hand to his face once again and held his gaze. Harry knew that she wanted to reach out to him, to let him know that she cared deeply for him. He'd been through so much already and she wanted to take his pain away. Very slowly, Ginny leaned toward him and gave him a soft kiss knowing that it was what Harry needed at the time. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her back. After a moment, they pulled back but continued to hold each other, wanting nothing more than to make this last forever.

* * *

Harry stayed awake that night while the rest of his Gryffindor friends slept silently. Another faint throb in his chest meant he had trouble sleeping. It'd happened twice now today and although it didn't linger for long, he knew he had to do something.

He stood up and walked quietly out to the common room. He watched the dying embers in the fireplace for a while before he strode out of the portrait hole. It was probably too late in the evening to talk to one of the professors, but he couldn't wait any longer. He had to confirm his suspicions while he was still at Hogwarts.

He walked through the cold dungeons until he found himself standing at the door. He knocked and waited. Harry had been slightly worried that his professor might be asleep, but he answered his office door at the first knock.

A rather bleary-eyed, bald, old man with an enormous, silver, walrus-like moustache stood in front of Harry. He looked like he'd been awoken from a deep sleep, but when his eyes focused and he saw Harry, he immediately smiled and greeted him, his sleep gone in an instant.

"Harry! What a surprise."

Harry hesitated and said quietly, "Professor Slughorn, I'm sorry if I woke you at this hour."

"Not to worry, my boy. Come in!" Horace Slughorn stepped aside and gestured for Harry to come inside his quarters. The fire crackled as he entered and instantly gave him some warmth.

Harry had been inside his office before, and his last visit was highly unpleasant seeing as Ron had swallowed an oak-matured mead with poison.

Professor Slughorn closed the door and made his way to his cabinet to grab some drinks. "Please do sit down, Harry."

Harry sat gingerly in one of the chairs across from the fireplace while Slughorn poured the drinks into two separate goblets.

He made his way to Harry and offered the drink as he sat down opposite him. Harry couldn't help but eye the drink tentatively and reminded himself that it was safe.

"Now, what can I do for you, my dear boy?" Slughorn asked.

Harry took a little sip of the butterbeer and brought the cup down onto the table. He honestly didn't know where to begin.

"Professor, I…" he hesitated for a moment. He could very well remember the last time he asked about a certain subject that hadn't ended well for either of them and opening it up again... he could only hope his professor would understand. He was getting desperate.

"Professor," he tried again. "I was just wondering if you can talk to me again about –" he took a deep breath, his heart hammering fast. "– Horcruxes."

His professor was clearly not expecting this and he choked on his drink. He eyed him nervously and waited for the inevitable.

It was a moment before Professor Slughorn spoke in a soft voice, and Harry was more surprised when he looked at him with concern instead of yelling at him and telling him to get out.

"Why do you ask?"

"I was just curious, Professor."

Professor Slughorn narrowed his eyes at him. "That is an odd thing to be curious about, Harry."

Harry didn't speak.

"What do you want to know?" Professor Slughorn asked when he thought Harry wasn't going to explain himself any further and instead was only looking at him intently.

Harry's hands were trembling slightly. He hid them in his pockets and took another deep breath.

"Professor, you once explained that Horcruxes are a piece of a person's soul, right?"

"Yes, that's correct."

"Could you explain to me what happens when a Horcrux invades a person? What happens to that person's soul when the Horcrux is destroyed?"

Professor Slughorn frowned, thinking.

"I haven't ever heard of such an act, to tell you the truth," replied Professor Slughorn. "Mostly the person creating the Horcrux would then hide it in a non-living thing, but I would only assume that the host's lifespan would shorten drastically if for some reason it did invade another person."

Harry shook rather uncomfortably in his seat, looking deeply worried now.

"But what if it wasn't intentional? What if it's just an accident that he created a Horcrux and it latched onto another soul? Would it still affect that person's soul after it was destroyed?" He was gazing at his professor with intense fear.

"Well," said Professor Slughorn after he drained his cup and set it aside on the table. "Regardless of whether or not it was intentional, once a Horcrux invades another soul, that soul is already tainted."

"Meaning that person's soul will also die even if the Horcrux is destroyed?"

"Yes," said the Professor simply.

Harry was beginning to feel a little ill. All the information he was getting was starting to make him feel hopeless. "Is there a way to fix a tainted soul, Professor?"

Professor Slughorn felt uncomfortable, his suspicions rising gently. He had talked about this with Albus Dumbledore but wasn't entirely sure as he had not read a book stating that fact. Albus seemed to know something he didn't.

"That, I am not aware of," he said to Harry. "The creation of a Horcrux is evil enough that all information about it was banned to the public, so I would presume that there is no such reference as to how to mend a soul under those circumstances. After all, as far as I know, no one has attempted to do it but only -" he stopped, looking uneasy.

Harry knew that Slughorn was going to say "Tom Riddle". He had seen the memory with Professor Dumbledore and was well aware of how much Slughorn regretted his action.

"Would you know then, Professor–" Harry was sweating profusely now, his voice quivering slightly. "How – how long could the person live with a tainted soul? You said the lifespan would shorten drastically."

"A few months, but I can't really say how long for sure," said Professor Slughorn. "I can only assume that it's slow and excruciating and that you'd prefer to die quickly as time passes by."

Terror washed over Harry, his heart was beating fast. He felt weak all of a sudden. Professor Slughorn glanced at him when he saw his worried expression.

"Are you alright, my boy?"

Harry looked up. "Yes. Thank you. I have to go, Professor... I -" His breath came slow and deep, and his mouth and throat were completely dry.

"Harry?"

Harry stood up shakily and went out of the door before Slughorn could even say another word.

As soon as the door closed behind him, Harry ran as fast as he could until he reached the bathroom. He fell to his knees in front of the toilet, gripped the rim with both hands, and threw up everything he had eaten that day. He could feel himself shaking so badly. He held on to the walls of the cubicle as he lifted himself up from the ground.

He returned to Gryffindor Tower feeling miserable and exhausted. He climbed up to his bed and felt his tears start even before his head hit his pillow. His soul was tainted and he was at a loss as to how to fix it. He didn't want to feel hopeless. He didn't want to think about how much pain he had to go through until he couldn't take it anymore. He was frightened and scared about what was going to happen. He thought he could live his life normally now after destroying the Horcruxes, and Voldemort had destroyed his own Horcrux inside him. But he was terribly wrong. Harry realized now that there was no hope for him to live in this world and it pained him to even think about it. He didn't want it to end like this. He didn't want to die. He wanted to do so much more in his life, but now he couldn't. It was like his life and soul had been snatched away from him, and to think that he only had a few months left was already killing him inside.

* * *

The morning sunlight poured through the window. It was their last day at Hogwarts and soon they would be riding the train back home. Harry was looking forward to going back and staying permanently with the Weasleys, but his high spirits died down when he remembered the talk he had had last night with Professor Slughorn. He was in a daze when Ron made his way slowly in front of his bed and called out to him.

"Harry!"

Harry turned to look at the blurry outline of Ron.

"Wake up, sleepyhead." Ron handed him his glasses, which he took gratefully. "You look terrible as hell, mate."

Harry chucked his pillow at him, but Ron evaded it quickly.

"Thanks, Ron."

He stood up and a dizzy spell hit him. He swayed a little bit and held on to his curtain to stop himself from falling.

"Woah," said Ron as he grabbed Harry's arm, steadying him. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. I think I stood up too quickly," he lied. He wasn't really feeling well today, probably because of last night. All his energy was drained, even though he'd slept through the morning.

The majority of the students had gone home the day after the battle at Hogwarts, and the few who had remained to help with repairing the school were packing their things and stowing them in their trunks. Only Harry and Ron didn't have anything to pack since they hadn't come back for their final year, only to finish the war with Voldemort. All of their things were tucked inside Hermione's beaded bag anyway, so they headed out to have breakfast in the Great Hall, which looked quite empty. Harry wasn't really looking forward to it, but he had emptied his stomach last night and now it was protesting.

He ate a little bit of toast while Ginny eyed him worriedly across the table. Harry smiled at her and looked down at his half-eaten toast.

"Is that really all you're gonna eat?" she asked.

"I'm not really that hungry." It was the truth. He could only manage to eat a small amount before his stomach turned wildly again, and he couldn't risk throwing up right now in front of everyone.

Ron and Hermione raised their eyebrows, but they didn't say anything. Despite the fact that the war had ended and everyone else was in a joyful mood, Harry couldn't help but feel extremely dispirited. Ron and Hermione thought that they totally understood his lack of enthusiasm because they too were grieving all the friends and loved ones who died two weeks ago, but neither of them knew yet what Harry was really going through.

Harry tried to be cheerful on their behalf and told them that he would eat more once they were back home at the Burrow. After all, who would want to be yelled at and force-fed by Mrs. Weasley every day, anyway? That earned him some satisfied nods from all of his friends.

After breakfast, he excused himself from them saying that he needed to go to the bathroom. He stood up and left the Great Hall. Instead of going to the bathroom, however, he turned another corner that would lead him straight to the library.

He saw Madam Pince reading at her desk when he entered what remained of the library. Most of the books that had been scattered across the floor or blown apart had been fixed and put back on their usual shelves. She had cleaned the entire library in no time without any help, but some renovations were needed that could not be done with a spell, much to her dismay. Madam Pince was always deemed an obstacle in Harry's student years. She was a very strict witch who was extremely reluctant to let any book leave the confines of the library. Harry had no choice. He needed to take some books before leaving Hogwarts in a few hours.

Slowly, he made his way toward her and asked for books relating to souls.

Madam Pince furrowed her brows. "There are many kinds of books about souls, Mr. Potter, some of which you have no access to in this library as they are for staff only."

"I only need books that I can borrow and take home with me during the summer."

"Your last term in school ends today," she said quite sternly. "Tell me, why the need to borrow books right now?"

'Because it's none of your business,' he wished to say out loud but thought better of it. He went for the one obvious reason Hermione would usually give.

"Light reading."

Madam Pince huffed. "Light reading?" she repeated.

"Yeah. I don't want to bore myself at home." Harry excused, hoping it would work. "I'd rather read."

She looked at him rather suspiciously. "And why do I find that very hard to believe? You hardly ever come here, Mr. Potter."

"That doesn't mean I don't like reading." Harry reasoned out.

Madam Pince contemplated. Harry was starting to doubt that he'd be allowed to borrow a book. She had a point; it was his last day. He had almost made a move to leave when she finally spoke.

"Very well. You'll find the books you're looking for on that row." She pointed at the far-right corner in the library. "You have half an hour before your train leaves."

Harry nodded and made his way to where she'd indicated.

* * *

Ginny sat beside Harry on the train back to London, where she held his hand and stroked it gently. Ron and Hermione sat silently across from them. They were all looking at Harry, who was fighting off sleep and failing miserably. He was feeling exhausted by just staring out the window. Ginny shifted her position and let Harry lie down on her lap, which he did gratefully. He cast a worried look at Ron, who disapproved of the act and threw Ginny a look that she ignored completely.

When Ginny was sure that Harry had fallen asleep, she glanced at the other two, who couldn't help but look worried.

"I haven't seen him look so depressed before," Ron started.

"How can you be so insensitive, Ron?" said Hermione. "We are all grieving."

"I am too!" Ron said defensively. "But this is different. I feel like there's something wrong with Harry."

Hermione gazed at Ron curiously. "I have to admit I kind of think there really is something going on."

They were silent for a moment while they looked at Harry's sleeping form. Even while he was sleeping, he brought his hand to his chest and they could see his pained expression, but then after a while, he looked peaceful.

"That's weird," said Ron, his eyebrows raised. "You think he's having a nightmare?"

No one answered him. Instead, they just continued to stare at Harry.

"He said he was scared," Ginny said suddenly.

Ron and Hermione looked up at her.

"Scared?" Hermione asked, looking puzzled. "Of what?"

"Why?" asked Ron.

Ginny shrugged. "He said he couldn't say until he was absolutely sure. He was shaking when he told me."

"When did he tell you?" Hermione asked quietly.

"Last night."

"No wonder he looked so terrible this morning," said Ron. "His eyes were all red and puffy."

"Is he not feeling well?" Ginny asked him. Even though she had seen Harry at breakfast that morning, she couldn't help but feel that something was really up with him.

Ron shrugged. "I dunno. He lost his balance when he stood up from his bed… said he did it too quickly, which I doubt."

The rest of the train ride was uneventful. They didn't bother waking Harry, thinking he needed a lot of rest, so they busied themselves with some more silent conversations and, all the while, staring out the window to pass the time as they neared the station.

A loud whistle woke Harry with a start as the train slowed down. They had reached London. He was shocked to find that he'd slept through the majority of the ride and his friends hadn't woken him up. He sat up and looked at them as they got ready to leave the compartment.

"How are you feeling?" Ginny asked as she squeezed his hand. Ron and Hermione looked at him.

"Well rested," he said. "I didn't mean to sleep all the way here."

"The moment the train left Hogwarts you were out of it, mate," said Ron.

They stepped off the train and onto the platform. Ron's parents were there and hugged each of them while Hermione bid them goodbye and waved before disappearing into a corner with her parents. Harry, however, walked over to the other side and looked around, as though waiting.

"Come now, Harry!" Mr. Weasley called out to him.

Ron went over to him when he made no move. "Harry, what are you doing? We're leaving. Everyone's waiting for you."

Harry looked confused. "What are you talking about? I'm supposed to wait for my uncle to pick me up."

Ron gave a small laugh. "Okay, Harry, stop with the jokes. Come on, let's go."

"What are you on about?" Harry asked, feeling totally confused now. They all knew that his uncle was picking him up, but they were all acting as though he was going home with them.

" _What are you on about?_ " said Ron, his smile fading slowly.

"I'm spending the summer with the Dursleys, remember?" Harry explained. The rest of the group walked toward him. Ron looked at Harry, perplexed.

"What are you talking about? You live with us now, Harry."

"Li–live with you?" Harry's head was pounding with confusion. "But why? I thought—"

"Harry, dear," Mrs. Weasley said as she walked in front of him and brought her hand to his cheek. "Are you alright?"

"Harry," Mr. Weasley stepped forward, his face gentle as he stared at Harry. "Don't you remember what happened when you turned seventeen last year?"

Harry looked at him blankly. He shook his head.

Everyone looked shocked. Ron's mouth was hanging open. Ginny clearly looked bewildered and Mrs. Weasley brought her hand to her chest.

Mr. Weasley gently placed his hand on Harry's shoulder and said softly, "Harry… you said your goodbyes to the Dursleys at Privet Drive before they left to go into hiding for their own safety. And you agreed to live with us from now on."

Harry slightly backed away from Mr. Weasley. He looked at everyone else as though asking for confirmation, but they just stared back at him with odd expressions. He brought his shaking hand to his head. He tried to remember, but everything was jumbled in his head and it was giving him a massive headache.

"Why – why can't I remember, Mr. Weasley?" Harry's voice was quivering.

"You've been through a lot, dear," Mrs. Weasley answered for him. "I think you're still in shock after the war."

Harry lowered his head. As much as he tried, he couldn't remember anything. It was like someone had obliviated him in his sleep. He could see flashes of memories, but they were all confusing him in some way. There was only one reason for this, of course, and he was starting to get really scared.

**To be continued...**

* * *

**Beta-read by janie-ohio, MaraScarlett, RayQueen, KVeronicaP, Living.In.Bibliomania**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To those who have read this chapter, I hope you enjoyed it. Thank you for all the kudos, as well as those who bookmarked and subscribed. It was always inspiring and encouraging to continue writing. Once again, thank you for supporting this story!
> 
> My one-shot Draco Malfoy story called "Troubled Mind" is now posted. Do check it out!


	2. Chapter 2

Harry felt like something inside him was broken, shattered to pieces, and nothing could make him whole again. Everything was all such blur to him that even his arrival at the Burrow with the Weasleys hardly registered. Ron and Ginny kept shooting worried glances without speaking.

"Welcome home, Harry!" Mr. Weasley broke the silence that took Harry momentarily by surprise. He smiled when he noticed everyone looking at him.

Mrs. Weasley cleared her throat, her eyes not leaving Harry's.

"We've all decided that you can take Percy's room as your own now, dear."

Harry gaped at her. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. They couldn't be serious.

"But, why? Percy –"

"–Agreed to this arrangement." Mr. Weasley cut him off. "He moved out already, Harry. He decided to live on his own. He was perfectly happy to give you his room."

"Come," Without giving Harry the chance to respond, Mrs. Weasley ushered him to follow her down a narrow passageway to an uneven staircase upstairs, which wound its way in a zigzag up through the house.

Harry and the others followed her. They made their way to the first floor and stood at the door to Percy's room. Molly pushed it open and let Harry inside.

"Ron gave us some ideas about what you'd prefer to have in your room," said Mrs Weasley. She nervously smiled behind Harry, who looked around the room with his mouth open in shock.

"If the Gryffindor colours are bothering you too much, let me know mate. We can always change them." Ron hurriedly assured him.

"It's perfect!" exclaimed Harry, his eyes wide in amazement. He was completely overwhelmed. He could feel his throat clench up in gratitude as he tried to hide his tears. He hadn't expected this. He had his own room now, his own bed, a desk with random books and some drawers. Glancing at the walls, Harry realized that Ron had covered nearly every inch of it with Quidditch posters.

"I'm not so sure what team you support... so I randomly selected a few of them." Ron quickly explained, but Harry was grinning widely.

"Thanks, Ron."

Living permanently with the Weasleys was a dream come true for Harry. They had been such a family to him and he still couldn't believe it. He turned around and hugged them all. He almost lost control of his emotions as he tried to convey his gratitude.

"Welcome to our family, Harry!" Mr. Weasley piped up, trying hard to control his own emotions. "We have always thought of you as our own son and having you now under the same roof was a responsibility we would always be willing to take on in a heartbeat. You are a very good boy and you deserved to be someplace where you are loved for a change."

"Climbing four more flight of stairs aren't such a bother for you when you want to visit my room, right? You still have your stuff in there, by the way." Ron reminded Harry. "Or I can switch with Ginny. Her room is right next to yours."

Ginny glared at her brother. "Not in a million years will I switch with you!"

"Come on now, Ginny," Ron pleaded. "Harry needs his best friend."

"I don't hear Harry complaining!" she retorted. She smiled at Harry, who returned her smile with a blush and went to her room, giving Ron one last glare.

* * *

That evening, Ron helped Harry move all his belongings to his new room. Harry could hear him cursing Ginny for all the effort he had to put in climbing up and down the stairs – all because she didn't want to switch rooms. They managed to transfer all of Harry's things before they heard Mrs. Weasley calling him with the others for dinner. Harry felt a little weird, having heard it for the first time since his official arrival as part of the Weasley's household. He felt like he really belonged in this family and he was very grateful for it. He left the books he had borrowed from the library - which he badly wrapped with paper before leaving Hogwarts - under his bed and went downstairs with the others, reminding himself to read them later before going to sleep.

The dinner held in the kitchen was the most fulfilling experience in Harry's opinion. Mrs. Weasley proved, yet again, how undeniably skilled she was at cooking different kinds of food. Harry thought her cooking would surely intimidate his Aunt Petunia, and surprisingly, just a mere thought of his relative made his mood drop a few notches. He knew very well how horribly he was treated by the Dursleys and yet, here he was, undeniably missing his mother's last relative. He wondered, for a moment, where they were now before he found himself being pushed down in a chair and force-fed by Mrs. Weasley.

Ron and Ginny sat on either side of Harry, while Mr. and Mrs. Weasley sat across from them. Harry noticed the table felt quite empty. George was nowhere to be found. Harry assumed he was busy running Weasley's Wizard Wheezes all by himself now that his twin, Fred, had passed on. Bill and Charlie had their own lives to live, as well. This gave Harry another jolt of sadness. He grieved at Fred's passing and even more at his funeral. He knew from then on how difficult it would be not to see him with George. Both of them, as Harry had recalled, got in a lot of trouble. One particular memory that had stuck in Harry's mind was Fred and George bewitching several snowballs to follow Professor Quirrell around and hit him in the back of the head. The thought that the twins were, of course, unaware that they were throwing snowballs in Voldemort's face, made Harry mentally chuckle at the table.

The family sat in silence, savouring each dish. Harry knew he wasn't very hungry, but couldn't help but change his mind when he saw the plate Mrs. Weasley handed to him. The look she gave him would make anyone think twice about arguing with her. He murmured his thanks and started dutifully eating.

It was awkward having Ginny beside him while the rest of her family was there. He wanted to reach out and touch her hand under the table, but he stopped himself. He decided to just shoot a quick glance her way, which Ginny returned with a smile.

"So… Harry," Arthur Weasley started, as he chopped his steak. "I hope you find yourself comfortable in your new room. Any plans for tonight?"

Harry hadn't planned anything for tonight apart from reading the books about souls, but he didn't want them knowing that. He had to make up or think of an excuse.

"I thought I could just go to sleep early, Mr. Weasley."

"What?" Ron asked him incredulously. "You slept most of the day on the train. You can't possibly be tired again. What are you, an old man?"

"Well, what do you suggest I do, then?"

"What a seventeen-year-old would usually do, perhaps," Ron said sarcastically.

Harry raised his eyebrows, totally at a loss for what Ron was trying to imply. "What is it?"

"Not sleep early, you idiot."

"Boys..." Ginny rolled her eyes, while Mr and Mrs Weasley sighed deeply.

"Did Hermione tell you about job applications?" Ron inquired Harry suddenly between gulps of his drink.

"She may have mentioned it," Harry answered wearily. He had too much on his mind to begin looking for work just yet and the new information he received from Professor Slughorn made him reluctant now to even think of applying for a job.

"She's been pestering me to start applying," snarled Ron with an irritated look on his face. "Blimey, we just had a war. We need a break, don't you think?"

"Yeah," said Harry who was not at all interested in the topic at the moment. "But knowing Hermione, I'd say start applying then if I were you."

"What are you gonna go for?" Ron curiously asked.

The career advice that they had received in their fifth year at Hogwarts with Professor McGonagall was very helpful, despite the constant contradictions and interruptions from Dolores Umbridge on one of her daily inspections at the time. Umbridge had insinuated that Harry's performance in school was not sufficient enough to qualify as an Auror. She even insisted that regardless of how much effort and training Harry was willing to take, and whether his criminal record was erased, was still dire proof that he wouldn't be employed. Harry hadn't completely lost hope but his dream of becoming an Auror now was dim due to the illness that he was going through at the moment, even if his chance of becoming one had been very high as he had just saved the Wizarding World and the Ministry was being reconstructed. He was starting to get annoyed at himself and unintentionally at Ron, who kept nagging at him.

"What are you asking me for?" Harry asked in an irritated voice.

"I thought you said you'd want to be an Auror."

"I do. And?"

"Well, I thought I'd give it a go, too, you know," responded Ron as he chewed his remaining food.

"Then do it!" Harry said forcefully. "Don't wait for me."

Ron was perplexed "Why not?"

Harry didn't respond. He was perfectly aware that he might not make it until then and it was making his heart throb painfully. He didn't want Ron to hold back just because of him. "Why _not_ , Harry?" Ron asked again, completely oblivious to the obvious signs Harry was sending that he didn't want to continue the subject. The rest of the Weasley family stared at Ron dumbfoundedly, not understanding how he wasn't seeing Harry's increasing temper.

"Just let it go, will you?" Harry snapped back, and with that, he scooped his plate, brought it over to the sink, said his thanks to Mr and Mrs Weasley, and stalked off to his room.

Ron looked stunned and puzzled at the same time.

Storming up the stairs, Harry overheard Ron ask his parents who had silently watched the scene unfold in front of them. "What was that about? Did I say something wrong?"

"No, you were just being a prat." Ginny chided to Ron. "Couldn't you give him a break?"

"But I was just asking –"

"Clearly he didn't want to talk about it, Ron," his mother cut him off. "Just let it go and don't go bothering him tonight," she added firmly. "Let him rest."

But Harry knew that Ron wasn't going to let him rest. He would want to find out why he got upset so suddenly. And sure enough, when everyone had finished their meal, Ron bounded upstairs and knocked on Harry's bedroom door.

"Harry, are you still awake?"

Harry opened the door but didn't say anything to Ron. Instead, he walked back to his bed and busied himself with one of his books.

"What's that you're reading?" Ron asked with interest, following Harry inside the room and sitting comfortably on a chair beside the desk.

"Nothing," was Harry's reply.

"Must be nice to read nothing, huh?" Ron said in a mocking voice.

Harry put down his book and looked at Ron. "What do you want?"

"What's with the attitude, Harry? You ran off like you're upset or something."

"I'm fine," Harry said automatically, doing his best to sound casual. "Don't worry."

"Don't give me that crap!" exclaimed Ron in an exasperated tone. "You always say you're fine when you're obviously not."

"Then stop with the stupid questions!" Harry said hotly.

Ron looked at him incredulously. "What's wrong with you? You were fine earlier and now you're acting like a total arse."

Harry gave a deep sigh. "Nothing's wrong with me. I'm sorry, but I just want to be alone right now."

"There you go again, always thinking it's best to just shut everyone out."

"What's wrong with asking to be alone?" Harry asked defensively. "The last time I checked you did the same thing when you wanted some privacy."

"Fine! Have it your way!" Ron spat at him before standing up and storming out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him.

Harry buried his face in his pillows, trying to calm himself down. Ron could be very annoying at times and right now was not the time to piss him off. He was dealing with too much worry and pressure. He understood his friend's concern, but he just couldn't see how badly he wanted to be left alone.

A knock came at the door and Harry sighed heavily.

"What now?!" he yelled from across the room, finally losing his temper.

"Harry…" Ginny called out to him softly.

Harry immediately sat up and dashed to open the door.

"I'm sorry, Ginny," he said apologetically. "I didn't mean to shout like that. I thought you were Ron." Harry couldn't bring himself to look at her.

She brought her hand to his cheek, wanting him to look into her eyes. "I know… we heard Ron's yell all the way in the kitchen."

Harry looked embarrassed.

"I'm worried about you, Harry," she said. "I wish you could tell me what's wrong."

"I can't," he whispered and looked away.

"Why? Why is it so hard for you to open up?"

"Because…" he hesitated for a moment, his eyes full of worry. "Because I don't want to hurt you. Any of you. You're already going through too much and I don't want to add more to your concern."

"What is it that will hurt me? You told me you would tell me once you found out." Ginny reminded him of the talk they had last night and the way Harry had looked when he came down to have breakfast in the Great Hall. According to Ron, his "eyes were red and puffy" which was proof enough that he already knew something. "You did find out for sure, didn't you?" she said with an intense look as if daring him to lie.

Harry let the silence drag on for a long time but, knowing Ginny, she wouldn't let this subject drop now without knowing the truth. He glanced at her and nodded, confirming her suspicions. His heart was beating fast.

"What is it, Harry?" asked Ginny. She traced the worried lines on his handsome face with her finger, trying to ease whatever he was feeling inside.

"I'm sorry," he said sadly, turning away from her. "I can't tell you. I'm – I'm not ready. I don't expect you to understand, hell, I hardly understand, but now is not the time."

Ginny looked a bit disappointed, but she brought her hand to his and gently squeezed it. "Whenever you're ready, then..." she said. With that, she turned around and walked slowly to her room, leaving Harry in peace.

Harry stood transfixed in the doorway, reciting his mantra that no matter how hard things got for him, he was going to make it, even if he felt like his life was already falling apart. He had endured so much pain and suffering. He had known hardship and loss, but he wanted to move forward and grow stronger. He never wanted to forget the harsh lessons life had taught him or the people who truly cared for him, the people who _died_ for him. His will to live had always been so much stronger than his fear of death.

He thought that he had been given a chance in life. Yes, he had survived the war, but it was over. Try as he might, it would always come to an end. With a deep sigh, Harry once again understood that he was not supposed to survive no matter the circumstances. It was his very own harsh reality.

* * *

Harry woke early the next day to make breakfast. He was part of the Weasley family now and this was the least that he could do for them. His attitude last night had been unacceptable and he wanted to make up for it. He hoped that it was enough for now.

He was greeted by the sight of multi-coloured and mismatched chairs surrounding a large wooden table when he entered the kitchen. There were several magical cookbooks neatly stacked on top of the mantelpiece, but Harry didn't need them; cooking breakfast had been one of his chores at the Dursleys. Instead, he eagerly gathered his ingredients, placed a pan on the stove and started with cooking some eggs, hoping that Mrs Weasley wouldn't mind him using the kitchen.

By the time Mrs. Weasley walked in, Harry had already set the table with plates and goblets, all laden with assorted food and drink for breakfast.

Molly Weasley stopped in her tracks and looked around with wide eyes until she spotted Harry scrubbing the sink.

"Oh, Harry!"

Harry turned and greeted her. "Good morning, Mrs. Weasley."

She was speechless. No one had ever done something like this before.

"Did you do all this?" she asked, looking incredulously at the table.

Harry nodded nervously. "I didn't mean to use your kitchen, I just thought I'd –" but he didn't get the chance to finish his sentence before he felt two arms wrap around him.

"So nice of you, dear," she told him in between hugs. "Thank you!"

At that moment, Mr. Weasley entered the kitchen, wearing long green robes. He stopped and blinked when he saw Molly and Harry.

"Look what Harry did, Arthur." Molly excitedly showed him the breakfast on the table.

"I must say I'm impressed, Harry! Not many young lads would care to wake up early and do what you did," remarked Mr. Weasley as he sat in a kitchen chair. Harry beamed at him.

"I guess that time I lived with the Dursleys, I kind of got used to it, Mr. Weasley."

"You have a talent, and _that_ I'm sure." Mrs. Weasley expressed in her sweet, motherly voice. "Now, why don't you sit down while I call Ron and Ginny."

A few minutes later, Ron came trudging down the stairs while yawning widely. He immediately saw Harry helping himself to some pancakes. He lowered his head, avoiding eye contact as he made his way to sit beside him. He stared at all the food in front of him.

"What's the occasion? Are we celebrating something?" Ron asked his mother.

"No, dear. Harry made all these this morning."

Ron raised his eyebrows at Harry but averted his eyes before Harry could look at him. He made no comment, just silently settled himself with some bacon, eggs and muffin and started eating. Harry was certain that Ron still hadn't forgotten their argument last night.

"Oh, George will come by for dinner in two days' time," Mrs Weasley informed them.

"Is he staying for a while?" Arthur asked her.

"I would want him to…" she said hopefully. "But, you know George, he's been really busy lately managing the shop. He hasn't got time for anything else now."

Arthur squeezed her shoulders and gently saying "Without the shop to get his mind off things, he'd probably lose himself thinking about his twin brother all the time. I remember when he was at his worst. He'd been deeply depressed for several days and no words could bring him comfort. He had only managed to move on a bit when he started to visit the shop again. Thinking of making Fred proud of him as he managed the shop alone helped him to move forward despite the circumstances."

Molly nodded, understanding George's feelings at the moment. She and the rest of her family ate breakfast quietly.

Arthur had already left for work and Molly was outside feeding the chickens when Ginny came downstairs and into the kitchen. Harry thought she looked beautiful in the morning with her hair up and still in her pyjamas, but today he noticed that she looked downcast. She saw him looking when she sat down across from him and quickly gave him a smile, but then the dejected expression returned. _W_ _as it because of last night? '_ Harry wondered.

Suddenly forgetting their argument, Harry asked Ron, "Could I borrow Pigwidgeon today?"

Ron frowned at him. "Why?" he demanded while pretending to look busy eating his breakfast.

"I just need to send a letter," said Harry quietly.

"Yeah, obviously," Ron muttered sarcastically. He cleared his throat and asked, "To who?"

Harry sighed. _What's with all the questions?_ he said to himself.

"To someone," he said simply.

Ron cast him a dark look and rolled his eyes. "Right." He turned his attention back to his food.

"So… Is that a 'yes'?" Harry asked, unsure of what Ron meant.

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because I said 'no'." Ron shot back with a glare at Harry.

Ginny gave him a nasty look, which Ron ignored completely.

Harry sighed in frustration. He had learned in the past not to annoy Ron because he would be sure not to help out and would only make things worse. On top of that, Ron undoubtedly knew how to hold a grudge, unless he made the first move. However, Harry wasn't going to do that. Ron needed to grow up. He was sick and tired of him acting this way.

"Look, Ron –"

"No, Harry! _You_ look here," Ron cut him off angrily, his ears turning red. "I bloody know what you're trying to do. I'm not stupid!"

"What I do is none of your business!" said Harry, his temper rising.

"It sure is!"

"Give him a break, Ron!" Ginny snapped, looking daggers at him.

"No. He needs to know what hiding something does to a person. I assure you, Ginny, it's not good!"

"I'm sure Harry must have a reason why he couldn't tell you," she tried to argue desperately, but deep down, she agreed with her brother.

Ron snorted. "Oh yeah, like he doesn't trust me, or you, or any of us!" he said angrily, his words piercing Harry like scalding knives.

Harry sat perfectly still. His head was lowered and he stared at his almost-empty plate. He felt a hard knot in the pit of his stomach as sadness filled him. _I trust them,_ he told himself. _I trust them so much that I don't want to hurt them._

Ron couldn't take Harry's silence anymore. He slammed his fist on the table with frustration, stood up and walked out of the kitchen.

The tension between Harry and Ron didn't subside over the next two days. Ron was being totally stubborn while Harry remained shut in his room each day after his morning routine of cooking them breakfast. He was considering getting a new owl now, but just the thought made him feel terrible. He missed Hedwig a lot. She was the only one who was always there for him; he felt like they had a bond and buying a new owl was pointless when he knew he himself wouldn't be alive for long.

Oddly enough, he hadn't had any chest pains recently. He felt completely healthy. Usually, his insides would burn twice a day for a few minutes. Maybe what he had felt before wasn't necessarily about his tainted soul. Maybe it was just a fluke or misguided information and he was just getting worked up over nothing. However, the books he'd borrowed from the library weren't exactly helping his paranoia. There were no mentions of healing charm or potions for the soul; most of them simply described the importance of having one, some philosophical views and their meanings. He badly needed to talk to Professor Slughorn again, but he had no other choice but to wait for Ron to calm down.

Ginny was also quiet most of the time as she helped her mother with the chores. She couldn't help but wonder how long she had to wait for Harry to speak up. She didn't want to start nagging him if it would only result in an argument. She wanted to avoid that if she could. But as days passed, she was starting to feel that maybe Ron was right. Maybe Harry really was having a hard time trusting them completely. She didn't want to give in to that idea, of course, but it was beginning to work its way into her mind.

Much to Molly's delight, the day of George Weasley's visit came much sooner than expected.

"Oh George, dear," Molly embraced her son tightly, giving him the once-over. "How's my handsome boy?" His freckles didn't totally hide his solemn expression when he showed up at the kitchen's fireplace that afternoon, but he plastered a huge grin on his face to cover it up.

"I'm as well as ever, mum."

Molly smiled. "Your dad will be home in a minute. Anything you'd like for dinner, dear?"

George shook his head. "No, any food will do."

She squeezed his shoulder and went to prepare for dinner.

George spotted Harry sitting watching them from the kitchen sipping his tea. Ginny was helping her mother, while Ron was nowhere to be found.

"George," Harry set his cup on the table, going over to him and giving him a brotherly hug. "How are you?

"Doing alright. You?" George asked as Harry settled himself back into his chair.

"Okay, I guess," he replied. "How are things at the shop?"

"Still booming," George told him. "Not that I'm complaining, of course."

Harry could see a flicker of sadness hiding behind his eyes.

"Are you settling in nicely in Percy's room, Harry?" George eyed him curiously.

"Yeah, everything's great."

George nodded his satisfaction and smiled at him.

"I remember when Fred and I turned Percy's bedroom walls pink because he wouldn't stop blushing when he had his first girlfriend."

Harry chuckled.

"It annoyed him so much that he never spoke about his relationship to anyone ever again. Fred and I were devastated, of course. We ended up changing the colour to an even brighter pink to match his rage."

Harry laughed.

"Those are the things that make life more enjoyable, you know. It was annoying for Percy, but who cares, really. It was fun for us." George proudly stated, casting a grin at Harry.

Now that George had mentioned Percy, Harry wondered how he was doing. The last time he had seen him was at the battle of Hogwarts, and that was over two weeks ago. "Have you talked to Percy lately?"

"Oh yes, I was the one who suggested he should give you his room or I would turn it back to pink," George said matter-of-factly.

"And he just agreed?"

"I was expecting him to put up a fight so that I could jinx his room again, but no… he agreed like a good little dog. He said it was about time to move out anyway and start his so-called new life. He decided to come back and work in the Ministry when Cornelius Fudge stepped down as the Minister..."

 _That's true in its essence,_ thought Harry. Percy had finally realized just how corrupt the Ministry was and accepted that he had been wrong the whole time in believing that Voldemort wasn't back. He had reconciled with his family and fought alongside his brother, Fred, who sadly passed on when the battle took place at Hogwarts. Percy was totally grief-stricken after that.

"Kingsley Shacklebolt replaced Fudge as the acting Minister for Magic," said George knowingly. "Mind you, I was glad the wizarding world acted upon a decision to vote for someone worthy to be the next Minister."

At that moment, Mr. Weasley arrived home, smiling widely when he saw George.

"Son!" he greeted. "So good to see you!"

George walked over to him and gave him a warm hug.

"Me too, Dad."

Ron quickly bounded down the stairs when he heard George's voice in the kitchen.

"George!" he delightedly exclaimed, rushing forward to hug his older brother. "We weren't expecting you until dinnertime."

"What can I say, I missed my Ickle Ronnie-kins, that's why." George patted Ron's head and messed up his hair. "You're as tall as me now." He shook his head fondly.

They sat on kitchen chairs and chatted until Molly announced that dinner was ready. It was a hearty meal and everyone enjoyed their time at the table, except Ron, who kept shooting angry scowls at Harry. Harry was also silent for the majority of the time. George found this odd, but Ginny gave him a knowing look.

When everybody had finished their food, Molly looked hopefully at George. "Are you staying longer, dear?"

"Yeah, only for tonight and then I have to leave early tomorrow."

"Oh good," she smiled sweetly. "I've washed and put new sheets on your bed."

"Thanks, mum."

The night dragged by and Harry found himself staring out of his window blankly. He heard a knock and quickly opened the door.

"Is Ron with you? I've brought butterbeer." George lifted the bottles in his hands to show Harry. "Thought maybe you guys could join me in my secret sanctuary."

"Sure, I could join you," said Harry, and lowering his voice he added, "But I don't think Ron would want to be near me."

"Why not?" Seeing the glum look on Harry's face, George quirked his eyebrows. "Did you guys have a _lovers'_ quarrel?"

Harry didn't respond, which was the only answer George needed.

"Well, whatever it is, it can't be that bad," said George consolingly. "A nice, long, heart-to-heart talk should do it, don't you think?"

"That's the thing… I was kind of the one trying to prevent that from happening," Harry said truthfully.

"And why's that?" George waited, but Harry remained silent with an emotionless look.

"Come on, then." He nudged Harry. "Let's have a little chat, shall we?"

**To be continued...**

* * *

**Beta-read by janie-ohio, MaraScarlett, KVeronicaP**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My one-shot Draco Malfoy story called "Troubled Mind" is now posted. Do check it out!


	3. Chapter 3

Harry followed George upstairs until they reached his bedroom. George opened the door and went straight to the window, through which he climbed up, and gestured for Harry to follow him before he disappeared around a corner.

They sat on the roof just above the window. Harry could see the vast field from up there. It was quiet and very peaceful. He let the summer air brush his face and calm him slightly.

"Welcome to my sanctuary," George piped up as he handed Harry a bottle of butterbeer. "Fred and I spent most of our time here thinking of ideas for the shop or just escaping from mum when we fooled around - even if it would probably end with no supper, a Howler, and a healthy dose of motherly guilt thrown in."

Harry grinned. No wonder he couldn't find them the last time he had been at the Burrow. Mrs. Weasley had been fuming and looking for the twins, who apparently had just disappeared out of nowhere. Of course they had all given up and just waited for the twins to show up themselves. And by the time they did, Mrs. Weasley had forgotten all about it.

"It's great being out here where it's quiet and peaceful... Thanks for sharing this spot with me," Harry said, surprised that he couldn't even hear the gnomes hiding underneath the rose bushes.

"It's great having someone to share it with again, so thank you," George mirrored with a small, nostalgic smile. "So how are things, Harry? Are you up to anything lately?" he went on excitedly, gazing at the sky above them.

"I haven't really planned anything at the moment. I kind of just wanted to... rest for a while."

"You must be feeling the pressure, huh? Being the saviour of the wizarding world, the expectations must be coming around like crazy. Tell me, are you going to be the youngest Minister pretty soon? That's what I've been hearing lately. One idiot even said that you're going to take Stan Shunpike as your second-in-command if he didn't make it as Minister. I bet you anything it was him talking when I passed by the Leaky Cauldron."

"Yeah, no doubt it was him," said Harry. He recalled Stan after the Quidditch World Cup making the same outrageous and false comment in an effort to make an impression. "It wouldn't be the first time that I've heard of him bragging about being the next Minister. Was he trying to impress another group of veela again?"

"I don't know... he must've been," said George thoughtfully. "But he's not a man of high intelligence, is he? Still making those claims after landing himself in a lot of trouble at the Ministry."

"It was not his fault," defended Harry. "He didn't really know what he was doing at the time."

"Yeah... but he's still a stupid bloke. So, you're not planning to be a Minister, then?" George asked, genuinely grinning unlike before.

Harry stared incredulously at him. "Are you serious? Who said I would want more fame on my plate? I can hardly go out without being gawked at as if I were in a zoo."

George gave a sigh of relief. "Oh, good! I placed a bet with Angelina that you would decline if offered and instead join as Seeker on a Quidditch team. Sounds promising, huh?" A smile flashed across his face.

Harry raised his eyebrows. "Why would I want to be on a Quidditch team?"

"Who doesn't? It's Quidditch!" exclaimed George, looking at Harry in disbelief. He took a sip of his drink and said casually, "I know Ginny plans to eventually join the Holyhead Harpies. Did she tell you?"

Harry shook his head. "Not that I'm aware of."

"Well, don't let me spoil the fun. It's really great and all... and I'm proud of my sister. So proud!"

" _'You start thinking anything's possible if you've got enough nerve.'_ " Harry spoke the words thoughtfully. "That's how Ginny described growing up with you and Fred. That's how much you've influenced her... and I couldn't agree more."

George beamed at him and said, "Hmm... I admit that Fred and I were snarky, sarcastic, and relentlessly rude – but underneath our well-intentioned tormenting, we cared very deeply for our siblings more than we let on. Glad to know that our efforts were paving its way to our sister and -" George cast a patronizing look over Harry before continuing. "I can clearly see your attempts to woo the heart of our Ginny."

Harry looked as though he had recently been hit on the back of the head with a Bludger. He tried to suppress the urge to turn pink in the face. It had taken him years of frustration of wrestling with his feelings and worrying about what Ron might have thought if he acted on those affections. He realized too late that he had to deal with George as well.

Like Ron, George gave a tiny jerk of the head that Harry understood to mean, Well - if you must _._

"Just don't break her heart," George advised. "Her Bat-Bogey Hex is a legend... you know that, right?"

"I'm aware of it," muttered Harry, trying to sound nonchalant, although he was afraid that Ginny might hex him one day once his secret of having a tainted soul was out.

"She doesn't say much to us," admitted George. "She's very private when it comes to her love life... probably thinks Fred and I would play a prank on her. I don't know where she got the idea that we cannot be trusted, but I personally don't blame her. It's you who should be careful now," he threatened Harry in a friendly tone. Harry took it as a cue to watch himself from then on and stay away from possible tricks from George that were reserved only for him.

"You're absolutely right, I should," concurred Harry. "I don't want to be throttled upon by a red-headed wizard."

George smirked, patting him on the back. He then said, "That's my boy," before taking another gulp of his drink.

"So how are you and Angelina?" Harry asked, making George cough suddenly.

"Now, now... don't get started with me about _my_ love life, young man."

They both laughed heartily.

George cleared his throat. "Actually, I want to marry her, and -" Harry opened his mouth to say something, but George held up his hand. "Believe it or not, Harry, it's not a joke."

"Well, I'm happy for you."

George gave a nod of appreciation. "It would be the best decision of my life, considering. I like it when she laughs at my stupid jokes." Drawing a deep breath, he continued, "She's my source of comfort now. Angelina kept me sane most of the time and even more so now after - you know..." He trailed off, unable to carry on, but Harry understood completely.

There was a slight silence between the two. Their eyes looked beyond the vast night sky in front of them.

"I wanted to get out what is on my mind, but -" Harry hesitated.

"- But you don't want to worry your friends?" George had somehow read his mind quickly.

Harry gave a curt nod.

"Quite understandable," George sympathized. "There is nothing wrong with setting boundaries. I used to think that way myself until Fred made me realize that I can trust the others as well, as long as I'm honest. Since then, I've noticed that people do confide in me easily. I used to think these were just coincidences - being in the right place at the right time."

"Were they?" asked Harry.

"No. I came to the conclusion that I am gifted with good looks and perfect personality traits that leave others no choice but to talk to me. Seriously, Harry, if I'd known from the start, I wouldn't have gone through so much drama in the first place."

Harry sniggered and laughed. It was a good thing he wasn't drinking his butterbeer at the time, or else he would be choking. "I find that hard to believe -" Harry muttered under his breath, but George shot him a fierce look, making him change his sentence halfway through. "I meant the drama part."

George seemed satisfied with Harry's choice of words and went on, "I know... I find it hard to believe as well that Fred and I were born for greatness." There was a slight seriousness in his demeanour before he spoke again. "Let me tell you a little secret." He paused, his eyes glinting under the moonlight. "I never talked about my problems to anybody except Fred. I confided with him so much, thinking that there was nobody else I could trust, not even my parents." He lowered his head and stared at the froth left in his almost empty butterbeer.

"Fred and I have done a lot in life together," George continued. "We knew that most of them were silly and stupid, and we proudly represented trouble at all costs, but that made it even more worth it because I had him, you see. He had my back when I needed him, and I had his in return. We helped each other and worked things out because I wouldn't be able to do half of the things I do now without him. You know what I'm trying to say, right?" He looked over at Harry, who hadn't taken a sip of his drink and was just holding it in between his hands, staring at George intently and contemplating his words.

"I know," Harry whispered.

"Ron may be the last person you'd likely confide yourself in because he's the biggest prat ever to walk this earth," George declared, making Harry chuckle. "But I know him, Harry… not because he's my brother, but I know for a fact that he would give all of his best to that one person he calls best friend."

"I've heard a lot of your adventures together," George said, looking at Harry, overly quiet beside him. He continued, "He stuck by you, you learned and fought together… solved mysteries. You guys have been through a lot; you trusted each other. Wouldn't you agree that he has already proven himself to be worthy of your trust?" he asked.

Harry felt guilty. He hadn't given Ron credit for it recently. He was always busy thinking of Ron and Hermione's own well-being without even realizing anything else. He valued their friendship to the point that he thought their camaraderie was enough to just go on in life and not give them any more to think about. He was absolutely wrong.

"To lose both an ear and a twin all in the same short space of time is more than most could tolerate. Heck, I couldn't even produce a Patronus, now that I think about it. Anyway, I'm only saying this because... I don't want you to regret it when the time comes that you lose someone important to you –" George paused, a slight break in his voice. He was unable to hold back the tears that were slowly falling from his eyes.

"I'm sorry," Harry said suddenly when silence fell between them. George lifted his head up with a sad smile.

"I think the hardest part of losing someone isn't having to say goodbye," he said in a low voice, only barely loud enough for Harry to hear. "But rather learning to live without them and always trying to fill that void… that emptiness that's left inside your heart when they go. I don't think I can ever truly get over a loss, you know… but I chose to move forward because I know that's what Fred would want me to do, I should at least honour his memory and not sit around and brood."

Harry nodded his understanding. If his surroundings could have reflected the feelings inside him, they would have been screaming in the pain and sorrow of losing the people close to him. It was unbearable. He tried not to think, but it was so terrible that he could not let it go.

"It's hard," Harry said very quietly. "I know in time it will be the small everyday occurrences that I'll remember most: the laughs, the stories, the smiles..." He trailed off.

"Although it might seem like the pain will never go away, it is these very memories that will help push the sorrow away and bring back happier feelings in time," George assured him. "There are always people who are willing to help to alleviate some of the pain, Harry. You don't always have to face it alone. I am open whenever you need me, even if it's just for a change of scenery and a bottle of Firewhisky next time. You are always welcome."

Harry gave a small smile and murmured his thanks.

The silence and the stillness dragged, broken only by the soft wind moving around them.

"Don't worry," George said after a while and patted Harry's shoulder. "I will personally smack Ron's head for you, so drink up, mate!"

He raised his bottle toward the dark sky as Harry did the same and said with great pleasure, "Cheers!"

* * *

Ron and Ginny, on the other hand, were having a not-so-friendly chat in the living room. Their parents had already gone upstairs, leaving them both free to row like cats and dogs.

"I told you, Ginny, to keep yourself out of this!" Ron said hotly.

"And you expect me to just ignore it when it's about Harry?" Ginny asked incredulously. "Well, that's not gonna happen, so better luck next time, Ron! And you're being such a jerk to him, so quit doing it!"

Ron looked extremely exasperated.

"What do you want me to do, then? He is so hard to talk to; not to mention he won't say a single damn thing about whatever he's hiding and acts like it's okay for everybody else and that we're just going to sit and watch him."

"What you need to do is to control that temper of yours!" she countered. "That's one of the reasons why Harry won't talk to you."

"That's a bit cheap coming from you! And he's being such an arse!" Ron reasoned out in anger. "Mouth always shut when obviously there's something wrong!"

Ginny sighed heavily.

"Harry was brought up like that, Ron. Can't you see? He was forced to believe that no one can help him, so he keeps everything to himself. He was taught that no one cares about his problems. Even if you rub it in as much as you can that people do care about him, there's always that small voice in his brain telling him that people might not actually care," she tried to explain to Ron. "And here you are just jumping down his throat, and not even once did you pause for a minute and understand why he's like that."

"I only wanted to help," he said, calming down a little. "Is that so much to ask?"

"I know you did. Harry's got a lot on his mind, I can tell, but you have to understand that it'll be really hard to get him to talk if he already set his mind not to say anything." Ginny pointed her finger at Ron and added quickly, "Just warning you now, I don't want you to feel disappointed and start yelling at him if he tells you nothing."

"Wouldn't be the first time he'd done it," he stated as though saying nothing was Harry's expertise. "Hermione and I always had to push him to talk, and he's still not used to it. It's not that hard."

"For you, it's not, but for him it is!" Ginny pointed out.

"Still, he should trust us more, don't you think?"

She stared at the floor. "It's not really about trust anymore," she said calmly but with a hint of sadness. "Sometimes, I feel like he doesn't want us to worry about him, like he's already moved on… you know what I mean?"

"He's being selfish then, and he's pretty good at that!" Ron snarled.

"No, there's something else," she said softly. "I just don't know what it is."

"Well, screw it!" Ron stood up abruptly and made his way upstairs. "I'll confront him tomorrow and hope for the stars that he knows how to use his mouth – and that is to talk."

"Could you please stop right now and listen!" Ginny yelled, glaring at her brother's retreating back.

But Ron continued to walk upstairs until he disappeared into his bedroom.

* * *

Ron didn't sleep well that night. He just tossed and turned in his bed, still fuming. He had only just managed to fall asleep when the sun was already up and light passed through his windows, making him curse when it hit his eyes. He swung his legs around, groggily stood up, and made his way downstairs. But before he could even take one more flight of stairs going to the kitchen, he heard someone retching and crying out in agony in the bathroom right next to Harry's room.

Ron made his way to the bathroom door quickly and knocked.

"I'll be right there. Just give me a sec." It was Harry's voice and he sounded weak.

"Harry, are you okay?" Ron heard the toilet flushing and water running in the sink. "Harry?" He made a grab at the doorknob when Harry pulled it open.

"Ron," Harry said weakly. "Do you need anything?"

Ron looked at the state of him. Harry's eyes were red again, and he was breathing heavily.

"Harry, are you sick?"

Harry slowly made his way to his room, ignoring Ron's worried look.

"I just need to lie down, Ron. I'll be fine." He made a move to close the door behind him, but Ron held it open.

"I'll ask Mum for help."

"No!" Harry made to grab Ron, but he was already running upstairs to his parents' bedroom.

Harry felt himself going red in the face. It was bad enough without everyone making all this fuss.

A few minutes later, Ron came down and entered Harry's room with Mrs. Weasley behind him, a few potion bottles in her hands. They saw Harry huddled in a corner in his bed, his head in his hand. He looked up when he heard them enter.

"Harry, dear." Mrs. Weasley went over to check him. "Ron told me you're ill."

"Mrs. Weasley, I'm okay," Harry reassured her while trying to move away. "Please don't worry."

Ron crossed his arms. "I heard you retching and moaning in pain in the bathroom, Harry. Don't tell me that's nothing."

Harry glared at him.

"Lie down, Harry," Mrs. Weasley ordered gently, bending down to stare closely at him. She pushed back Harry's hair and felt his forehead. "You have a slight fever, and you do look pale. Drink this." She handed him a purple potion. Harry took it and gulped down the contents.

"Try to rest," she said comfortingly. "I'll come by again to check on you." She stood up and left.

Ron closed the door behind him and stood awkwardly in front of Harry. They looked at each other silently. Ron didn't know what to say, but Harry knew perfectly well why Ron remained in his room.

"Harry," Ron started while looking at his feet.

"Are you here to ask what's wrong with me?" Harry asked with a sigh. "Because I have no intention of saying anything –" he hesitated as he remembered the talk he had with George last night about confiding with Ron. He took a deep breath and muttered, "For now."

Harry saw a flicker of hope and relief spread in Ron's face when he looked up and met his eyes.

Clearing his throat, Ron said, "That's fine." And unable to control himself, he cracked a small smile.

Surprisingly, Harry smiled back. He missed his best friend and he wanted everything to go back to the way it was before and make the most of the time he had left with him.

He coughed a little and said softly, "I don't want to sound rude, Ron, but I'd like to rest."

"Oh, um… sure," said Ron and hurried out the door.

* * *

Ginny came down for breakfast that morning expecting Harry to be up like always, but he was nowhere in sight. Mrs. Weasley was cooking breakfast, and Ginny was greeted in the kitchen by Ron, who looked like Christmas had come early.

"What's up with you?" she asked him.

Ron made a huge grin. "Oh, you know… Harry."

Eyes wide, predicting the worst, Ginny asked, "What did you do to him?"

Ron frowned at the sudden accusation. "I didn't do anything. We just talked."

"What did you tell him, Ron?" she asked sharply.

"Jeez… relax, Ginny. We're all good now."

"What do you mean? Where is he, anyway?" Ginny asked while looking around at the kitchen. "Is he still sleeping?"

"He was awake earlier, but he's probably sleeping again. He's sick." Ron informed her.

"Sick? Why would he get sick? He was fine yesterday."

"That's what I thought too," said Ron. "I heard him throwing up and in pain in the bathroom this morning."

Ginny frowned slightly. "Did he say anything else?"

Ron shook his head. "Mum gave him a potion. She'll come back to check on him."

"I'll check on him now." Ginny made to move, but Mrs. Weasley stopped her.

"Not now, dear. Let him rest. I'm making soup, and you can take it up later."

Ginny sighed, but she nodded sadly and helped her mother cook breakfast instead.

"Mum, where's George?" Ron asked suddenly.

"He left early this morning," Mrs. Weasley said gloomily. "It'll probably take weeks before George will come and visit again."

* * *

The day was already half over when Mrs Weasley decided to have Ginny check Harry's condition, bearing a cup of hot soup.

Ginny knocked gently at Harry's door, but he didn't answer. She slowly opened it and looked inside. Harry was lying in bed, shaking and sweating profusely, his back toward her.

"Harry?" She checked his forehead for any sign of fever; he was burning up.

Harry moved his head a little and looked at her.

"Ginny," he croaked and gave her a weak smile.

"You have a very high fever, Harry, and you're shivering," Ginny told him nervously while placing a blanket on top of him. "Didn't you take a Fever-Reducing potion already?"

Harry nodded and closed his eyes.

"I have to tell mum. It might take a while before you can drink another potion. I don't know why it didn't work the first time. I'll be right back." Ginny made sure that Harry was totally covered with blankets before running downstairs.

She arrived back a few moments later with her mother and Ron behind her. Mrs. Weasley also checked Harry's temperatures and confirmed that he had developed a high fever, sadly noting that he would have to wait for another hour before taking another potion.

"For the meantime, you have to eat." Mrs. Weasley gestured for Ginny to grab the soup she had set aside on the table before leaving. "We've brought you soup. Drink it while it's hot."

"Thank you, Mrs. Weasley," Harry said weakly before she left.

Ron propped the pillows and helped Harry in a sitting position. He slid the glasses on Harry's face and let Ginny position herself beside Harry, holding the soup.

"I can eat it by myself, Ginny," Harry said, looking slightly embarrassed.

Ginny sighed but made no move. "I don't know if you know, Harry, but you are shaking. I don't think you can even hold a spoon properly."

She scooped some soup and brought it over to Harry's mouth, and he reluctantly took it.

Ron couldn't help but grin at the sight of them.

"You better heal fast, mate, or else Ginny will take advantage of you."

Ginny glared at him. "Don't you have better things to do?"

"What? I'm standing guard just in case Harry needs my help," said Ron petulantly.

Harry smiled at him. "I'm okay, Ron. Don't worry about me."

"Admit it, you just want to be alone with Ginny," Ron said while smirking at his best friend.

"Can I have your permission, then?" asked Harry, looking hopeful at Ron who looked back as though silently saying, ' _You better keep your hands off my sister or else.'_

"Fine," he said, sounding exasperated. He turned around and walked out the door, taking as long as possible.

Harry and Ginny stared at the closed door for a few minutes, then looked at each other awkwardly.

"I don't know how you can handle my brother," said Ginny, scooping some more soup from the bowl. "I can't stand him. He's so irritating."

"He gets on my nerves sometimes," Harry said truthfully.

"He gets on _everyone's_ nerves," she corrected him. She brought the spoon to Harry's mouth, and he gladly took it now that Ron wasn't there to make fun of him.

"But I'm grateful for him for being my best friend, though," he said after gulping down the soup. "I can't imagine my life without someone as annoying as him. It'd be so boring."

Ginny laughed.

"I do have to admit that he's a good person if you don't count his pettiness," she said as though it were the last thing to ever cross her mind. She even looked quite surprised at what she'd said.

"He is," Harry replied shortly.

"He's pretty adamant in knowing what your problem is." Ginny looked at him nervously, but he showed no expression that he had heard, so she continued, "Please don't push him or us away, because you are not alone in this."

Harry couldn't help but feel really empty, and having Ginny tell him that he was not alone - that he had friends who supported him and were willing to help him out no matter what it took - was the best feeling and one that he didn't want to disappear.

They were silent for a moment. Then Ginny looked up at Harry, her voice quivering when she spoke, "I'm scared to think that I may lose you one day. I don't know why or how... but I can feel it. I may not have the slightest idea of what is happening to you, but I don't want to just give up. There is always hope, no matter how bad it gets, and I need you, Harry. I want you to stay with me."

Harry felt his heart ache. He wanted to say that everything was going to be okay, even to himself; he knew, however, that it was a lie. He would trade his life for anything just to be with her, to make her happy.

"Harry." Ginny grabbed his hand and looked straight at him. "Please promise me you'll tell me what's wrong before it's too late. Don't pretend that there's nothing wrong when there is. It's alright to not be alright sometimes."

Harry wanted so badly to tell her now, and he wanted this time to be the right moment to reveal all the aches and pains he was feeling. He opened his mouth, ready to say what he had been keeping hidden for weeks, but a knock came at the door, and the opportunity was lost.

Ginny sighed and opened the door. It was Mrs. Weasley.

"Ginny, could you tell Harry I prepared a cool bath for him? It'll help bring down his fever." Clearly Mrs. Weasley was thinking that she had to resort to Muggle treatments if the potion wasn't working.

Ginny nodded silently.

Ron returned to Harry's room a few minutes later, only to find it empty. He went across to grab the half-eaten bowl of soup at the desk, as it would be no use to Harry now that it was cold. He was about to leave when his eyes caught some random pieces of paper with Harry's handwriting on it sticking in between the pages of different books. Curious, Ron pulled one paper and read:

_internal pain, confusion, mental breakdown, antisocial behaviour_

Startled as to why Harry had written it, Ron seized the book in which the paper had been placed. He opened it.

The page contained various ailments and afflictions. It had several pieces of information on how each of them affected the body, its symptoms, and how it could lead to death, but none of it specified the treatments.

 _Why would Harry read something like this?_ Ron thought. He flipped the book to read the cover: _The Soul_. He scanned the rest of the books lying on the desk and read each cover. _Souls and Its Mysteries. Soul: The Introduction_.

Ron stared at all the books in front of him. _Everything is all about souls,_ he said to himself. _But why the sudden interest in it?_ He was well aware that they couldn't have gotten assignments at Hogwarts for the summer since they hadn't come back for their seventh and final year. They only went back to Hogwarts for the war. W _e didn't get any homework,_ Ron thought in total bewilderment.

He racked his brain trying to make sense of everything when he suddenly heard Ginny come out of her room, and she knocked on the bathroom door across from hers.

"Harry, just checking in. Are you alright in there?"

"Yeah," Harry answered. "I'm fine. I'll be out soon."

Ron walked hurriedly out of Harry's room and confronted Ginny before she went back to her room.

**To be continued...**

* * *

**Beta read by KVeronicaP, FatCatsAndUnicorns, janie-ohio, Scaehime**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My one-shot Draco Malfoy story called "Troubled Mind" is now posted. Do check it out!


	4. Chapter 4

"Ginny, I need to tell you something," said Ron tensely and urgently.

Ginny raised her eyebrows, noting the urgency in her brother's voice. "What is it?"

He looked around the hall and said quietly, "Let's talk somewhere private."

She suggested her room, and both of them went inside quickly.

"Okay," she said, turning to Ron. "Spill."

Ron took a deep breath. "I was in Harry's room just now. I didn't mean to see it, but it was just lying there, so I had no choice. There were books in there… with notes."

"What were you doing invading Harry's privacy?" she asked sternly, annoyed with her brother. She was half-tempted to reach for her wand and use her signature bat-bogey hex, but crossing her arms instead.

"I didn't mean to," he said defensively, trying to bring her back to the topic at hand, "but I got carried away and saw them."

"Saw what?"

Ron cleared his throat and whispered, "Books about souls."

Ginny raised her eyebrows. "Souls?"

Ron nodded, looking anxious.

"Well, what's wrong with reading about souls?"

"He's got a ton of notes in some of the pages," he explained in a low voice. "And besides, I don't remember getting any homework because we didn't come back to Hogwarts to study. So what was he doing?"

"Summer reading maybe?" she asked coolly.

"Come off it," said Ron, looking exasperated. "I know Harry hates school reading, and from all the books I've seen so far in his room, they only pertain to one topic: souls. Couldn't you tell it is kinda odd to read many books, but they're all talking about only one thing? And why is he interested in souls all of a sudden?"

Ginny just shrugged, nonplussed. "I don't know, Ron."

"Do you think he's dealing with post-traumatic stress because of the war?"

"He could be. After all that happened, I would definitely think it's possible."

Ron wanted to confront Harry, but he didn't want it to lead into another argument. They had just made peace with each other, and he didn't want to ruin it again. "Do you think I should talk to Harry about it?"

"Absolutely not," Ginny said, eyeing Ron as though he had gone mad. "Do you honestly think that he'd stay calm the moment you bombard him with questions about something he knows you shouldn't have known, anyway? Don't forget, it's Harry's business and not yours. Let him do the talking; he can be as stubborn as you when he wants."

"Should I talk to Hermione, then?" Ron had been dying to tell Hermione everything that had happened the first day back at the Burrow. He hadn't had the chance to speak to her anyway, and he already missed her.

"It wouldn't hurt to know her opinion, I guess," Ginny said thoughtfully, considering Ron's suggestion. "Hermione is the most responsible and capable out of all of us; she'll probably come up with a safe plan without hurting Harry in any way."

* * *

The next few days passed by in a blur. Harry remained cooped up in his room as his condition kept giving him headaches. It would come on and off in different time intervals and as frequently as Harry had sadly anticipated. It was making him feel as scared as ever, but he was still adamant on not telling his friends, simply saying it was "just flu" as his excuse.

Now that he was on good terms with Ron again, he was granted permission to use Pigwidgeon to send and receive letters. Ron, on the other hand, kept a close eye on his best friend but never confronted him about the soul books, as much as he really wanted to. The note he had read made him more aware of Harry's behaviour over the course of his stay at the Burrow, and Ron doubted it had anything to do with him, given the circumstances. However, his suspicions remained intact, and he was determined to send letters to Hermione, hoping she might have some answers. _It's only a matter of time, I guess,_ he told himself. Ron gave Harry some space, which he took gratefully, while Ginny stayed by his side most of the time to take care of him "with vigour," as Harry would simply put it.

Harry awoke screaming one morning, feeling disturbed. He had had a weird dream concerning Hedwig. She had been in a cage beside him when she was suddenly hit by a green light, and then the dream changed to another scene where Sirius was floating beyond an archway that looked familiar to Harry, but he couldn't remember why.

Ginny and Ron burst inside Harry's room looking breathless, having run up the stairs and fearing something or someone had attacked Harry while he was sleeping. They found him still in his bed but sitting in a corner, his arms around his knees, rocking back and forth, and looking frightened.

"Where's Hedwig and Sirius?" Harry asked the moment they entered.

Ginny and Ron exchanged a quick glance. She went over to Harry, who shook uncontrollably.

"Where's Hedwig and Sirius?" Ron repeated, completely baffled.

"Harry, did you have a nightmare?" Ginny asked, looking worried.

"I don't know," he replied tremulously. "I saw Hedwig getting hit by a killing curse and Sirius floating away somewhere... and now that I think about it, I haven't seen either of them." He glanced at the empty cage sitting in a corner beside his desk.

Ron and Ginny watched him apprehensively, not knowing what to say or how to confirm that his nightmares were real.

Ron decided not to delay the inevitable and plucked up the courage to tell Harry, who looked at both of them with so much fear in his eyes.

"They're –" Ron hesitated for a moment. He looked nervously at his friend. "They're gone."

Harry's stomach lurched. "What do you mean, 'they're gone'?"

"What you saw in your dream…" said Ginny in a low voice. "That's – that's how they died, Harry."

Harry saw the sorrowful look on their faces.

"No," he said flatly, not wanting to believe it. "That can't be. What I saw was just a dream, like any other dreams I've had." He looked over at the door, expecting Sirius to come bounding in any second.

Ron looked at Ginny questioningly and mouthed the words "memory loss?" when Harry wasn't looking, but Ginny only shrugged.

"Harry..." Ginny placed her hand in his arm. "I'm sorry."

Harry looked at her; her expression made his heart feel heavy.

"How –" he paused. Nothing made sense to him. "When did they –"

"Almost a year ago," Ron told him. "Hedwig died before you turned seventeen. We were all pursued by Death Eaters on the way to our safe houses. You told us yourself what happened to Hedwig, Harry. You were there, you saw how she got killed." He gulped at the surprised look Harry showed - as though he hadn't been there at the time Hedwig had died and was just hearing it for the first time.

Ron continued as he tried to shake off the odd behaviour of his friend. "And at the Department of Mysteries, we were ambushed by the Death Eaters. Bellatrix was duelling with your godfather, and he got struck by a spell. He… he fell through the Veil that caused his death. That was almost three years ago, mate." Ron finished and looked at Harry once again. He was looking down at his knees. Ron could tell Harry was silently crying when he heard him sniff a few times.

"I was there when he fell, wasn't I?" Harry asked, not looking up at them. "I saw the whole thing, didn't I?" He felt grief-stricken as well as frustrated at himself for not remembering. _How could I have forgotten?_ he asked himself. It was such a huge blow for him to be reminded of these events by his friend who knew he was there as well at the time. He couldn't bring himself to look at them. He knew they were silently communicating in front of him, asking the same thing, wondering why he couldn't remember things correctly.

Ron made a mental note of this occurrence which had happened twice now in less than a week. This first time was at the London train station when Harry thought he was being picked up by the Dursleys, and the second was this. He hated to think that it coincided with what Harry had written on that piece of paper about being confused and having a mental breakdown. Ron tried to shrug off the awful feeling. _But that couldn't be the case,_ he told himself. _What is really going on with Harry?_

The silence dragged on to all of them. Only Harry's stifled sobs and the rain that started pouring outside of Harry's window could be heard.

Harry let out a breath when he finally calmed down. He looked up and saw them looking at him curiously.

"I'm sorry," he said, looking embarrassed all of a sudden.

"Harry, mate… No offence, but you gave us quite a scare," said Ron in a low voice. "Are you having amnesia? What was that about?"

Ginny cast him a look, exasperated by how tactless her brother was.

Harry looked away. There was no other way to hide his secret. He had to tell them now. He had already scared the living daylights out of them, and what more could keeping quiet do if the damage was already done?

He inhaled deeply and cleared his throat. He nervously glanced at them.

"Remember when I said I'd tell you guys something when I'm sure of it?" he asked more to Ginny than to Ron, who still nodded. He continued, "I… I found out about it the night before we all went back home, and –"

A soft tap disturbed them all of a sudden. Pigwidgeon hooted loudly outside the window. He had a couple of scrolls attached to his leg. Ron opened the window to let him in and grabbed the letters. One was addressed to Ron, clearly from Hermione with her slant and neat handwriting, while the other was for Harry. He gave the letter to Harry, who took it, a frown visible on his face as he read, and Ron opened his. It was a bit short and frantic.

_Ron,_

_Are you sure about this? There are many reasons why Harry would be interested in souls. He dealt with seven Horcruxes, not to mention himself as one of them. He told us about it right after the war, remember? But with illnesses and possible symptoms, I have no idea why he was looking into it. You don't think he's planning on making a Horcrux? Because that's just not Harry at all. He wouldn't do that. It would scare the hell out of me if he did. Keep me informed._

_Hermione_

Ron pocketed the letter. He was about to ask Harry who had sent his letter when Mrs. Weasley's booming voice startled the three of them.

"Ron! Ginny!" she called from behind the door. "Breakfast is ready!" Then they heard a knock, and her soft voice said, "Harry, dear, I'll be bringing your breakfast in a minute."

Harry scrambled to his feet and opened the door before she disappeared from the stairs.

"No need, Mrs. Weasley. I'll come downstairs and have breakfast."

"Are you sure, dear?" she asked worriedly. "You're still looking pale."

"I'm sure," Harry said, giving her a reassuring smile.

"Okay, then," she said. "If you insist." She went downstairs and out of sight.

Harry turned around and faced Ron and Ginny.

"I guess we'd better go and have breakfast," he said, but when he saw the worried looks on their faces, he added, "I'll tell you guys later, I promise."

But that promise was stalled by Mrs. Weasley when she decided to have Ron and Ginny work around the house all day, and by the time night came, they were already too exhausted and sleepy to think of the promise Harry had made.

Harry was also having some difficulty talking to them, as Mrs. Weasley began her check-up on his condition as often as she could handle. The burning feeling started again as well, and it left him screaming in agony and breathless as he gasped for air for more than an hour each time as it worsened. The good thing was, it only happened when everyone was already asleep. He would always cast a Silencing Charm on his bedroom to prevent them from waking up. He knew it was only a matter of time before someone would find out, but right now he couldn't risk being heard.

A letter Harry had received several days ago from Professor Slughorn lay uncurled in his desk. They had been communicating, owing to Harry's need to know more about tainted souls, and Harry was getting desperate for a cure. Professor Slughorn was pretty cautious in what he wrote, for every letter he delivered to Harry carried the possibility that it might get intercepted. Their topic for conversation was serious and highly dangerous should it landed in the wrong hands. As much as possible, he would only write short notes, and it was starting to bother Harry.

To make it even worse than what Harry was already feeling, there was the fact that he couldn't stop himself from shaking. He was having a hard time holding his quill and writing properly now. He attempted several times, but oftentimes his handwriting wasn't legible enough to be understood. Out of frustration, he would then decide to toss the letter in the bin.

Ron was also getting frustrated. Hermione's letter brought a great deal of worry and discomfort to him. As much as he'd have liked to know what was going on with Harry, he couldn't find the time to do it because his mother was becoming increasingly needy for all the things she wanted to be done in the house, leaving Ron scowling permanently as though no other expression could ever change his foul mood.

The same went for Ginny. Even though her room was just beside Harry's, her exhaustion would take over before she could even decide to knock on his door.

As another day came, Ron decided to stop his cleaning duties and talk to his mother. He found her outside the house with Ginny, who looked ready to kill the chickens at any moment.

"Mum!" snapped Ron, coming to a halt behind her and looking furious. "Why are we suddenly cleaning the whole freaking house?"

Mrs. Weasley cast him a glare, her hands on her hips. "Don't you dare use that tone on me, young man. And didn't I tell you that your professor is coming in today?"

Ron and Ginny were both shocked.

"No, you didn't. Which professor?" Ron was completely surprised and puzzled.

"Horace Slughorn," she said simply.

"Why's he coming here?" Ginny asked.

"He said he needed to talk to Harry. I don't know what about, but I'm sure it's nothing to worry about."

"How do you know?" asked Ron who clearly knew there was something to worry about.

"Because Horace told me not to worry. He said his visit is purely for academic purposes."

Ron and Ginny exchanged worried looks.

Ron ran back inside the house and up the stairs to Harry's room. He knocked, but Harry didn't answer. _He couldn't still be sleeping,_ Ron said to himself. He checked the clock on the wall: eleven o'clock.

He knocked again. "Harry! Are you awake yet?" He pressed his ear at the door. It was too silent. Ron sighed and opened the door.

He saw Harry curled into a ball in his bed, fast asleep. Ron made a move to leave when Harry stirred.

"Harry?" Ron knelt beside him.

Harry opened his eyes weakly and saw sunlight streaming through the window.

"Harry, you have to wake up," said Ron with urgency.

"Why?" Harry lifted his head slightly.

"Didn't you know Professor Slughorn is coming today?"

"No," he said as he tried to sit.

Ron looked surprised at him. "Why not?"

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, looking perplexed at Ron. He wasn't feeling really good today, and his head was pounding.

Ron sighed. "He's coming in to talk to you. I thought you knew."

Harry frowned and then his heart leapt as the realization hit him. "Oh, that must be the letters…" he muttered to himself, but Ron heard him.

"Letters? What letters?"

But Harry didn't hear him as he suddenly writhed in bed and screamed.

Ron was dumbstruck. He looked frantically at Harry, who continued to scream in pain.

"Harry? Harry! What's wrong?"

There were tears in Harry's eyes. "It… hurts!" he managed to utter as he writhed again.

Ron watched, horrified at his friend's condition. His insides crawled unpleasantly. He scrambled to his feet and ran as fast as he could outside where his mother was.

"Mum!" yelled Ron. Mrs. Weasley and Ginny looked up and saw his distraught-looking face. "Quickly! Harry needs help!"

"What happened?" Mrs. Weasley asked, sounding alarmed as they made their way to Harry's room.

"He's in so much pain –"

They reached his room and saw Harry breathing heavily and moaning. He looked really pale, and his face glistened with sweat that made his hair stick on his forehead.

"Dear…" Mrs. Weasley knelt down. She reached out her hand and touched his arm, but he winced, causing her to pull her hand back. "Harry, tell me what's wrong?"

But Harry only continued to writhe, though a little less than earlier.

"He said, 'it hurts,'" Ron answered for him.

Mrs. Weasley was careful not to touch his skin again as she brushed his hair away from his face. "Where does it hurt, Harry?"

"Everywhere," he croaked. His eyes closed.

Ginny's eyes sparkled with unshed tears as she watched Harry in his terrible state.

"Ginny, quickly, in the storage cabinet, there's a small bottle labelled 'Healing Potion'," ordered Mrs. Weasley.

Ginny nodded and sped downstairs.

A few, tense minutes later, she hastened back to her mother and Harry, whose face was half-buried in his pillow as he cried in pain while the time passed by.

Mrs. Weasley wrenched the stopper off the little bottle and said in a comforting voice to Harry, "Harry, dear… I have here a healing potion that you have to drink. It'll help with your pain."

A few tears dropped from Harry's face when he nodded weakly at Mrs. Weasley. She gestured for Ron to come near her so he could help Harry lift his body and tilt his head to drink the potion.

Harry felt cold wash over him as soon as the potion worked its way into his bloodstream, and the burning feeling throughout his body eased, but only a little. He curled into a ball once again; his hands turned to fists as he bit back the pain that he knew would engulf his already tired senses, and it did. The last thing he saw was Mrs. Weasley placing a blanket on top of him and calling his name before unconsciousness took over.

Ron quickly sent a letter to Hermione to inform her of what happened, and he hoped she could come by since he didn't want to deal with Professor Slughorn alone. He had seen Harry in pain before. He hated it each time, but he could handle it then when he knew why his friend was hurting, but this time, it was even harder for Ron, as he had no clue what was wrong with Harry at all.

Harry's sudden ordeal an hour ago made the rest of the Weasleys so worried that even Mrs. Weasley didn't know how else to help him but to ask a healer or someone with more knowledge in the medical field. The potions she had given Harry didn't seem to have much effect at all. As much as she wanted to help, she was running out of ideas.

Ginny remained beside Harry, who still had not woken up from unconsciousness, while her mother contacted her father downstairs. She felt Harry's skin, and he was burning up again. She had noticed that this symptom came and went. They had already given him multiple Fever-Reducing potions several days ago, but it didn't help at all, so they had to resort to muggle remedies. He had taken cool baths, which lowered his body temperature slightly, but then his fever would come back again.

Green flames erupted in the fireplace, startling Mrs. Weasley and Ron. Horace Slughorn arrived wearing his usual waistcoat with gold buttons. He peered around the Weasley kitchen and saw Mrs. Weasley, who had completely forgotten that he would be arriving today.

She stood up and shook his hand. "Horace."

"Good afternoon, Molly," Horace greeted as he stepped out of the fireplace. "Forgive me if I startled you with my arrival. Now that I think about it, I can't remember if I even mentioned the time. Old age must be kicking in, I would think."

"Oh, you mentioned it. Something just happened, and I completely forgot. I'm sorry," Molly said.

"Did I arrive at a bad time?"

Before Molly could answer him, green flames erupted once again behind them, and this time it was Hermione Granger who came out of the fireplace, her face already looking worried. Ron stood up.

"Hermione?" Molly stood perplexed. "What are you doing here?"

"Ms. Granger!" exclaimed Slughorn, looking surprised yet cheerful at the same time. "It's good to see you again."

Hermione beamed at the sight of them.

"Hi, Mrs. Weasley," she said breathlessly. "Hello, Professor Slughorn. I'm sorry that I didn't send an owl saying that I would be arriving today. I heard about what happened to Harry –"

"Harry? Harry Potter?" Slughorn asked quickly, his cheerfulness gone and replaced by worry.

Ron moved towards Hermione and gave her a hug. She took a good look at him and saw worried lines formed in his face.

"Yes," Molly said sadly to Horace. "An hour ago Harry was in so much pain that he fell unconscious. The healing potions didn't work much, and I don't know what else to do."

"I think this is more than just a simple sickness," interjected Ron. Though it caused everyone to look at him, he said it more to Slughorn, who regarded his sudden appearance with surprise.

"What do you mean, Mr. Weasley?"

"Harry's been acting really strange," Ron explained. "He woke up screaming from a nightmare and asked where Hedwig and Sirius were. He knew how they died, and we all knew that, of course, because he told us before." He looked to Hermione for confirmation, and she nodded, urging him to continue. "But now he seemed to think that they were still alive. And back at the train station, Hermione… after you left with your parents, Harry said he was waiting for the Dursleys to pick him up. He had completely forgotten that he's living with us now. He's very confused, not to mention having fevers that never go away for long, and saying that he's feeling pain everywhere in his body.

"It was pretty weird too," Ron added before someone could interrupt him. "I came across one of Harry's notes with different symptoms he had written on it. I didn't think much of it at first, but now whatever he wrote is happening to him now, and there were these books about souls – it doesn't really make any sense to me, but what you said in the letter about Horcruxes, Hermione –"

"What a minute, Mr. Weasley," Slughorn cut him off, a look of horror visible in his face. "Did you say 'Horcrux'?"

"Yeah," said Ron, frowning slightly.

Slughorn lowered his head, suddenly looking older than ever. "Harry came to me asking about it. It was late one evening, and he wanted to know what happens to a person's soul when once invaded by a Horcrux." Molly looked at him with confusion. "I told him the soul becomes damaged or tainted as I remembered I'd said –"

Hermione gasped all of a sudden, her hands covering her mouth.

"What is it, Ms. Granger?" Slughorn asked, looking alarmed.

"Professor, did Harry tell you the reason why he was asking?" Hermione asked tensely.

"I don't believe he said anything." He racked his brain. "Why do you ask?"

Hermione looked apprehensively at them. "Because – Harry was a… a Horcrux." She looked frightened saying it, but she continued when no one spoke. "Voldemort attempted to kill him when he was still a baby, and we all knew he failed, and the curse backfired on him instead." Everyone nodded at this fact. "But a part of his soul was transferred to Harry, making him a – a Horcrux. When Voldemort cast the Killing Curse at Harry again at the battle at Hogwarts, he destroyed that part of his soul unknowingly inside Harry."

"Merlin's beard!" Slughorn exclaimed. He hadn't known how grave the situation was before, and now he felt as though ice had formed inside him and was numbing him. "No wonder he was asking for a possible cure on the damaged soul!"

"What is this Horcrux that Harry was dealing with for such a long time? No one said anything about it to me," Mrs. Weasley asked worriedly.

"A Horcrux is an object in which a dark wizard or witch has hidden a fragment of his or her soul in order to become immortal," Horace explained in a very low voice, obviously not keen on the subject. "It can only be created after committing murder, the supreme act of evil. I wanted to avoid this kind of conversation as much as possible since I knew it was a dangerous topic... but it was -" he hesitated and gave a deep sigh. "It was I who told Tom Riddle about it. I had feared that the worst things could happen, and they did. Now I'm cursing myself so much for such idiocy. It was my careless tongue that caused Tom Riddle to misuse his information." He turned to regard Mrs. Weasley quietly. "Dumbledore insisted that I share with him that specific memory."

Mrs. Weasley slowly sat on a chair, shock coursing through her body, and her heart was beating fast. She felt weak all of a sudden.

"Professor," Hermione spoke, breaking the short silence that the professor's words had rendered suddenly. "When you said 'damaged soul,' what do you mean? What happens to its host?"

Slughorn glanced at Hermione wearily and said, "It's an unusual case, so I could only assume that the host would wither away and eventually die."

Ron gulped loudly.

Hermione was silent, trying to assess the situation, and then she asked the one question she feared the most, "And how long can that host live?"

"It could be a few months… weeks, or less," Slughorn said sadly.

There was a tense silence following Slughorn's last words. It pierced right through their hearts. They all knew now that Harry was fighting in a losing war. Ron finally understood why Harry couldn't bring himself to say what was wrong because he knew he only had a little time left and because he didn't want to give them anything to worry about anymore. _He couldn't possibly think that, could he?_ Ron battled the thought within himself. He would've hated that Harry was thinking this way if he did. They had done a lot together and risked a lot. Surely that alone was proof enough for Harry to think that he was not alone and that he could trust his friends. He almost lost Harry to You-Know-Who, and he was not going to let that happen again no matter the cost.

Hermione looked like she was on the verge of tears. She had dealt with pain before, but losing Harry was not something she could handle. Harry was like a brother to her, and having him gone would be like a part of her had died, too. She hated herself for not noticing that Harry was going through something dreadful after the war. After all, Harry knew full well how to keep a secret if he really wanted to. Hermione respected that, but there were times that she knew he wouldn't be able to handle it on his own. She was always willing to help, but she felt like it wasn't always enough for Harry to even confide his thoughts to her, and that hurt. Even though that was the case, she wouldn't want to give up because he was already like family to her; he was a friend she was willing to risk her life for.

"Surely there's a cure, Professor?" Hermione asked desperately, her tears threatening to fall any minute now.

Slughorn sighed. "I could only hope. I want to happily tell you that there is a cure, but I would only be fooling myself to believe that. The creation of a Horcrux is evil enough that all information about it was banned in public," he said. "To my knowledge, I would presume to believe that there was no such reference as to how to go about mending a soul for that matter. After all, no one would attempt to do it, not until you told me, Ms. Granger. Interestingly enough, I once had a short talk with Dumbledore regarding this, and he did mention something about fragmenting a soul. It could be possible that he knew how to mend a soul; he's the greatest and most powerful wizard of all time, after all. But it caused me so much grief knowing that Tom Riddle had succeeded in making Horcruxes that I lost my interest in extracting more knowledge on how to mend a soul, so Dumbledore never mentioned it again."

They were silent once more. Only the hum of the wind outside and the chirps of the birds could be heard. Too much information had been revealed, and the shock of it all could not be overcome in an instant.

"So you said you thought Professor Dumbledore believed that it's possible to mend a soul," said Hermione eventually. "Surely he read that somewhere –"

But Hermione was cut short when Ginny suddenly showed up in the kitchen. She smiled awkwardly at them all and said, "Harry's awake."

**To be continued...**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My one-shot Draco Malfoy story called "Troubled Mind" is now posted. Do check it out!


	5. Chapter 5

They all followed Ginny upstairs and into Harry's room. The afternoon sun shined across the floor, giving the room a pleasant ambience. Harry's eyes were closed, and his breathing had calmed to normal when they entered. Ron and Hermione knelt on the floor beside him while the rest of them remained standing and looking overly worried at the teenage boy lying in bed.

"Harry?" Hermione called gently.

Harry's eyes opened slowly, and he saw the bushy-haired outline of his friend in front of him.

"'Mione…" he said weakly.

"How are you feeling?"

It took him a minute before answering in a whisper, "Great."

Ron snorted while Hermione smiled. Harry closed his eyes again, too tired to open them.

"Uh… I came by to see you," she said. "Thought you could use some company."

Harry smiled and said in a hoarse voice, "Thanks."

She cringed at the sound of his voice. _He must have been screaming a lot,_ Hermione thought sadly.

Mrs. Weasley drew a breath and said, "Harry, Professor Slughorn is here to talk to you, but if you're not up for it, he can come back anytime." She looked over at the professor who gave her a curt nod.

Harry made a move to sit as a way of saying that he was okay enough to talk, but he could feel how nervous he was when everyone was staring at him. Ron helped him up while Hermione propped his pillows. He looked so pale, and his eyes were bloodshot when he looked at them. Ginny slid the glasses onto his face, and he said his thanks. He ran his hand through his hair and made himself look comfortable against the pillows behind his back, occasionally wincing from the burning feeling that still wouldn't leave him.

He looked up and saw Professor Slughorn. "Professor," he regarded him as casually as possible as he cleared his throat. He knew he must've sounded horrible to them. He was kind of hoping to have a private chat with his professor, but they didn't seem to want to go away. He glanced at them nervously, feeling as though he were sitting in a very bright spotlight; the people inside the room kept shooting furtive glances at him as though he were about to collapse again at any moment.

Sensing Harry's uncomfortable look, Hermione blurted before she could stop herself.

"Harry, we already knew about the –" She hesitated to look at Ron for support as she addressed the truth to Harry. "Soul."

Ginny's head shot up with a questioning look on her face. "Soul? What are you talking about, Hermione?" she asked looking between Hermione and Harry.

Harry lowered his head and stared at his hands. He didn't speak nor move in his bed. He didn't know what to say to them. Whatever they thought of him having a tainted soul didn't really matter now. There was no cure, and all he had to do was accept it, go on with life, and wait for his final moments. _This is always how it works, isn't it?_ he thought with a heavy heart.

Hermione heaved a deep sigh. She didn't want to be the one to tell Ginny of Harry's secret. She felt constricted to be in this position, but she had no choice. Before she could utter an explanation, however, Ginny went ahead and asked Harry herself, and Hermione took it as a huge relief.

"What aren't you telling me, Harry? What is this soul Hermione was talking about?"

"Since when have you known? Why didn't you tell us?" Ron cut in suddenly and looked apologetically at his sister who had shot him a hard look for interrupting her question.

"It's not really – I don't –" Harry tried to explain but was having a hard time. He hadn't expected them to find out so soon. Harry looked at Ginny who was waiting worriedly for his explanation. He was going to tell her, but for now, he would have to disappoint her by addressing Ron and Hermione first. "I felt it when Voldemort destroyed his Horcrux inside me."

"What did you feel?" asked Hermione softly.

"I… I can't really describe it. All I know is that it feels like my skin burns every time now." Harry touched his arm and felt it.

"Are you saying you've been feeling like this for three weeks now?" she asked with a frightened look on her face.

"It was not as much as now. It only lasted for a second the first time I felt it, and then it gradually stayed longer after that."

"And the potions I gave you didn't help either." Mrs. Weasley said this statement more to herself than to Harry who still acknowledged her and gave her a nod.

"I don't believe any potions could stop whatever you're feeling from happening, Harry," Slughorn said sadly. "It wasn't my intention to bring bad news, but it was the only truth I could provide, unfortunately. It's not your body that's suffering, it's your soul. It could be that as more time passes by, your soul withers away little by little. That's why I think you're feeling these."

"These?" Harry asked, a little confused.

"Ron mentioned quite a few things that have been happening to you these past few days, Harry," Hermione told him anxiously.

"What do you mean?" he asked, looking puzzled.

Ron looked at him apprehensively and said, "You know… you've been acting really strange. There were times when you were so confused like someone just obliviated your memory, and you couldn't remember a thing of what happened. You've been really out of it, mate. And all those books about souls –"

Harry raised his eyebrows, a look of disbelief went towards Ron. "You went through my stuff?" Harry asked him incredulously.

Ginny looked at Ron as though saying 'I told you he'd be mad.'

"Well, yeah… I did," he replied as though it was the obvious thing to do for keeping secrets, ignoring Ginny's look. "But not completely on purpose," he added quickly. "I saw your notes, and since you won't tell us anything, we kind of tried to figure it out."

"And you have to invade my privacy just to figure it out?" he asked, and even with a hoarse voice, he sounded dangerous.

"I don't regret it," Ron courageously said. "Now we all know –"

"And then what?" asked Harry with a glare at Ron.

"Then we find a cure," replied Ron simply.

"There is no cure!" Harry said exasperatedly.

"You don't know that, Harry," Hermione interjected. "There must be a way to fix this!"

"I'm running out of time, Hermione. What do you want me to do?" All this talk was making Harry feel edgy and frustrated. Even if they would look for a cure, he didn't know whether it exists or not. "And in case you don't know, there were no other reference books for the kind of problem that I have."

"You could be wrong, Harry. Don't be so thick to assume that it's hopeless –"

"Well, it is!" Harry cut Hermione off who stared at him with displeasure, and Ron looked daggers in his direction.

"So you're just giving up?" Ron spat at him. He couldn't help himself now but get annoyed. "Is that what you're trying to say? That you just let death take you away? Are you really that willing to die?"

Harry just glared at Ron who stared back at him furiously and continued, "I can't have that hopeless attitude of yours ruin what we and your parents fought for so long, mate, and that is to damn well live!" Ron was shaking with rage. He stormed out of the room before anyone could even say anything. Mrs. Weasley immediately followed him out to talk to him.

Harry sat frozen in bed. He couldn't bring himself to look at Hermione, Professor Slughorn, and much less to Ginny who was silent in front of him. He wanted to be alone. He felt ashamed of himself. He was so set to give up his life that he had forsaken the one thing his parents valued most and had sacrificed their lives for. It was true that his friends fought for him so that he could live, and yet here he was, tossing it away like a piece of trash.

"Harry," Hermione said softly even though she was feeling tense after seeing Ron lose his temper. "We want to help you, but nothing's going to work out if you keep pushing us away. We know how hard it is for you, and we know you're scared, but you are stronger than you think. You're a fighter, Harry, I know you are, and you have to hold on tight and fight as hard as you can because we're not giving up on you, and neither should you."

Harry knew that Hermione was aware of everything that he had undergone, how far he'd come, all the times he had pushed on, even when he felt he couldn't, all the mornings he got out of bed no matter how hard it was, and all the times he had wanted to give up but getting through another day and never forgetting how much strength he had gained and developed.

"If I must say, Harry, m'boy," said Professor Slughorn who was awkwardly standing behind Hermione. Harry looked at him, feeling suddenly embarrassed. "You may not always have a comfortable life, and you will not always be able to solve all of the world's problems at once, but don't ever underestimate the importance you can have. Because history has shown us that courage can be contagious and that hope can take up a life of its own. There are plenty of obstacles in your path, Mr. Potter, don't allow yourself to become one of them." With that, he excused and lead himself out the door to give them some privacy, but Hermione followed suit after giving Harry a worried look and a nod at Ginny who returned it just the same.

Neither Ginny nor Harry spoke when Hermione closed the door behind her. They were at a loss for words on how to comfort and reassure each other's thoughts.

It was Ginny's expression that caused Harry's heart to skip a beat. She was looking straight at him with a disappointed look on her face while holding her hands together.

"Ginny, I…" Harry trailed off. He watched as many emotions flickered over Ginny's face. With a sinking heart, he saw her tear her eyes away from him. He knew what she must be feeling at the moment, having been told of Harry's situation in such a way must have been unexpected. Harry was sure that it was a blow she had not been prepared to take, knowing full well that she didn't have any idea of what Ron and Hermione had talked about.

"I did what I thought was best for you or for us, Harry…" said Ginny in a strange strained voice. "I've given you time and space so you could think things through, work out what you need and you've done it… you knew."

Harry saw tears glistening in Ginny's eyes.

"Are you even gonna tell me what's going on with you? Do you even plan on it or am I just gonna keep on guessing?" she asked, frustration lacing her words, she wanted to control what little she had of her emotions, but she was starting to lose it. "Because right now I'm so disappointed in you. You kept me in the dark!"

Harry sat motionlessly.

"It's already hard for me, Ginny," he said sadly. "I don't want to make it harder for you. I don't have a choice –"

"Yes you do," she said angrily. "And you know it!"

"What do you expect me to do?" he asked, he was getting frustrated for Ginny to understand his situation.

"You could've told me sooner instead of me finding out from someone else. I'm your girlfriend for goodness sake!" She was glaring at Harry while she said it. Her tears threatening to fall from her face.

"I'm sorry. I know I've said this before, but I'm saying it again: I don't want to hurt you, Ginny."

She cocked an eyebrow at him. "And you think I care about that?" she asked.

"I care…" said Harry with dignity. "I don't want to see your life fall apart because of me."

Ginny looked outraged. She stared at Harry disbelievingly for a second. She could feel herself shaking when she asked, "So you'd rather I live a good life than finding out dangerous truths about you? Is that what you want?"

Harry sighed heavily and said softly, "It's for the best. You know how my life works, Ginny. I would hate to admit it, but we don't have a future together. My life had been cursed, and I have no other way to fix it – I don't know how to fix it."

"No," she said defiantly.

"No what?" Harry asked, completely confused.

"No way am I going to give up on us, and neither should you!" she snapped at Harry. "I've done my fair share. I had cried my eyes out thinking you died in battle with Voldemort – but you didn't, so this time I'll never going to lose you again, Harry, not in a million years! I'm willing to take that risk, even if it meant saving your life. So stop acting like a total jerk and let's find that damn cure!"

Harry was silent. He gave a long breath as though in defeat and said, "There really is no way out of this, is there?"

"No," Ginny said firmly. "So you'd better skip the 'I don't want to hurt you' talk because I don't care. I'm helping you out, and there's nothing you can do to change my mind."

* * *

The blazing afternoon sun matched Ron's foul mood when he stormed out of Harry's room and into the living room. He was fuming, and the heat was only making him feel worse. He didn't mean to yell at Harry, but he couldn't control his temper as well when it came to Harry's hopeless way of thinking.

He sat on the sofa and buried his face in his hands when his mother came storming behind him, her hands on her waist. Ron had expected that and was too keen for explanations to protest.

"Ronald –"

"Mum, please!" Ron cut her off, not wanting to hear her scold him at this time, especially when he was already feeling terrible.

"Don't you dare –"

"I know, mum! I know I shouldn't have said that to Harry, but he was being stupid," he tried to explain. "You heard how set he was on dying and how he wouldn't even hear us out. How could I not say something? He doesn't know how to value his life and… and after losing Fred, I – I couldn't…"

Ron couldn't finish his words as he sucked some air out of frustration and from the sadness that was creeping in slowly inside him. He stared at the floor and tried to calm himself.

Molly sighed. She could see the troubled look on her son's face and his slumped shoulders. She knelt in front of him and gently touched his arm.

"When some people are at their deepest point in life," she started. "They tend to lose control of their emotions and say what they don't mean to say. I understand where your words were coming from, but lashing out isn't a good way to point out your views."

At that point, Hermione and Professor Slughorn came downstairs and went straight to them, a look of worry on their faces.

"Harry is going through so much right now," Molly continued. Ron remained unperturbed when he saw Hermione from the corner of his eyes. "It's understandable that he would let his emotions overpower him and disregard anything else, but don't feed him with some more emotions that could potentially ruin him. Do you understand what I'm saying, Ron? You're his best friend, and there's a reason why he chose you to be his best friend." She patted his shoulder before standing up and walking away.

Hermione went over to where Ron was and sat beside him. She held his hands, and Ron squeezed them gently to let her know he was okay. At times like these, he just wanted to be with Hermione. Harry had always been a big part of their lives, and losing him to something that they knew they could have done better to solve was something Ron could never accept in his life.

 _Why does Harry have to succumb into thinking that there's no way out of this?_ Ron thought sadly, his mind still clouding with frustration.

"Professor, earlier you said Dumbledore might have known of a way to mend a soul. Perhaps he kept the book that stated that fact?" Hermione asked suddenly, looking up at Slughorn with desperation on her voice.

Slughorn sighed and slumped into a chair across from them. His tired-looking eyes peered at Hermione who was patiently waiting and hoping to hear some good news after all the bad news they had heard so far. Slughorn looked down in his hands and thought hard.

"I would believe so," said Slughorn. "But he could have read it somewhere, not only in Hogwarts library, or he could have heard it from someone. You can never really know. After all, he liked to travel back when he was young, and he's quite good at making conversations."

"We could at least try first and look in Dumbledore's office, see if we could find anything," Ron suggested suddenly. "If not, then we could always figure out what to do next."

Slughorn and Hermione glanced at him.

"That could be one of many possibilities, Mr. Weasley," said Slughorn.

"If the book is still in the office, maybe we could ask Professor McGonagall's permission," Hermione eagerly told Ron, but her expression suddenly became worried. "Would she be able to let us borrow books from Professor Dumbledore's own shelves?" she cast a look toward Professor Slughorn. "Professor, I know we're asking a huge favour, but could you –" Hermione hesitated for a moment. She badly needed the books if they held a cure, and the only one who can get them was right in front of her. "Could you try and find the book from the office?"

Silence greeted them as Professor Slughorn contemplated and pondered Hermione's question with barely a glance in their direction.

"I believe I could," Slughorn said thoughtfully after a while. "I don't think Minerva would mind, but it would take me some time to find it, not to mention Dumbledore has got a whole lot of shelves full of books."

"Thank you, Professor," Hermione said with a small smile and felt relief washed over her. "At least now we know where to start looking for a cure," she said happily.

Slughorn stood up and said, "I will have to go now, then. It was good to see you both care so much with your friend. I only hope I bring good news once I have any prospective book with me when I come back." He turned and strode to the kitchen fireplace so he could Floo back to Hogwarts. Ron and Hermione followed him. He waved goodbye to them before disappearing from the green flames. The only thing that Ron and Hermione could do for now was to wait for Slughorn to visit them again.

* * *

The air inside the Burrow felt rather subdued when the knowledge of Harry's condition was out in the open. The letter Arthur Weasley received from Molly at work that afternoon was clutched in his hand the moment he came home that evening. He sat on one of the kitchen chairs looking rather pale from having heard the news further when Molly retold what had been happening when he was away from work. Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were in the kitchen as well, all with a worried look on their faces.

"Is Harry resting right now?" Arthur asked no one in particular while his head drifted upwards on the ceiling as though he could see through Harry's room.

"Yes," Molly answered him. "I gave him some sleeping draught. I could tell he was becoming increasingly restless." That much was true. Harry was having difficulty sleeping now. At random hour each night, he would be awoken from the burning feeling that was getting too painful for him to handle. The Silencing charm was never cast again after he reluctantly admitted to Mrs. Weasley what he was doing so as not to wake them up to which Mrs. Weasley scolded him for doing such a stupid thing. She said she would rather be awoken from his screams than not knowing what was happening to him, and so now Harry was forced to bite his lip and bury his face in his pillows again when he screamed. Not to mention, Harry was always in a daze the next day, and his emerald eyes were starting to look dull with dark circles.

Arthur sighed and asked his wife, "Do you think we should take him to St. Mungos's hospital?"

"No," Ron interjected suddenly, his parents looked at him. "Harry wouldn't like that."

"Why not?" Molly asked. "He will be well taken cared of over there than here." As much as Molly wanted to help Harry, she had to admit that she lacked medical knowledge when dealing with grave sickness and had to resort to professionals to do their work.

"Did you forget what Slughorn told us?" Ron asked while looking at his mother who raised her eyebrows. "No potion or spell can heal Harry's symptoms. Sure, they can try and give him some to make him feel comfortable, but the pain will always come back."

"Are you saying we do nothing and let Harry suffer in front of us?" Molly asked incredulously. She stared between Ron and Hermione who were seated on the far end of the table. Hermione gave her a reluctant nod and looked away from her direction.

"You can't be serious? Harry's getting worse each day. I can't just stand there and act as if nothing's wrong with him."

"That's why we're waiting for Slughorn to come back so that we can get started with finding the cure," said Ron. He ran his hand through his hair, gazing absentmindedly at the clock hanging on the wall. His stomach churned just thinking about what could possibly happen to Harry if they keep delaying.

"I really wish Professor Slughorn would hurry up," Hermione said under her breath. "Or else I would have to resort to those books Harry has –" she stood up suddenly, startling the other four people in the kitchen. "Why didn't I think of that before?" she muttered to herself.

"Think about what?" Ron asked, frowning at her.

"The books, Ron," she said. "You said in the letter that Harry has books about souls. I could very well read them now that I'm here." She strode across the room and up the stairs.

"You're not going to barge in his room now and get them, are you?" Ron asked quickly as he kept up with her from behind.

"Yes, Ron. I am," Hermione said before stopping in front of Harry's door and reaching for the knob.

Ron held her arm. "You can't. If Harry sees you he'll –"

"He'll do what exactly?" Hermione cut him off and asked with a menacing voice. "You know I don't care at this point what he does, and besides, your mum gave him a sleeping draught." Before Ron could speak, Hermione turned the knob and opened the door.

Harry's room was dark. Only his sleeping form could be seen from the faint light the moon gave from the outside. Hermione could hear that his breathing was ragged. She went straight to his desk and scanned the book covers. There were at least three books that were lying on the table. Hermione hurriedly took them and was about to leave when she heard Harry mutter something under his breath. _He must be dreaming,_ she said to herself. She crept slowly out of the room but stopped when she heard her name.

"…'m sorry… 'Mione… Ron… Gin…"

Hermione looked at him when she thought she heard Harry crying in his sleep. She couldn't help but feel depressed at the thought of Harry slowly dying.

"Please hang in there, Harry. We'll get through this," she said quietly.

As though Harry wasn't sleeping, he muttered, "…M'kay…" That took Hermione by surprise, and she let her tears that were threatening to come out ever since she came to the Burrow, fall from her face.

* * *

That evening in the living room, Hermione, Ron, and Ginny busied themselves by reading the books Harry borrowed from the library, occasionally taking notes to add more to what Harry had written. The only helpful thing they could find from the books were the symptoms that they had gone over quite a few times already in their small talks. To add more to their disappointment, no such things as 'Horcrux' or 'mending of souls' were even mentioned in all the three books.

"Those were pretty much basic symptoms that can be fixed by a potion or spell," Ron sighed in frustration. "But in Harry's case, there's none! How can they hush it all up?"

Ginny rolled her eyes while Hermione shook her head when she answered him. "Because it's very dark and dangerous, Ronald. How many times do I have to tell you? They can't just have people grab the books and start teaching them how to break their souls like a Horcrux would."

"Well, at least they'd write more books for a possible solution if more people are involved in it, wouldn't you agree?" Ron knew he was being stupid, but the idea of people writing more books about souls and how to mend them could shorten the time they had already wasted and help Harry fast.

"And what is Slughorn doing at Hogwarts right now, anyway?" he asked impatiently while closing with a snap the book he was reading for who knew how many times already. "He hasn't mailed us or anything. It's not like the books might be on another continent... They're only in Dumbledore's bloody office!"

"We only assumed that. Give him time, Ron," Ginny said. "He only just left a few hours ago."

"That's exactly my point," spat Ron. "Slughorn left hours ago! It's almost midnight, and Harry could've died by now."

Ginny cast him a dark look. "Don't say that!"

"Well, it's true!" he countered. "We're just wasting our time reading these stupid books while Harry's out there suffering severely by the looks of it, if I may add."

"We could only hope that Professor Slughorn would get back to us as soon as possible, Ron." Hermione calmly said even though she was feeling impatient herself. "Haven't you been to Professor Dumbledore's office before? He's got tons of books. The book that we're looking for might not even be in there. I would gladly come to Hogwarts and help Professor Slughorn find them if I could."

"He could try the Summoning charm like you did with the Horcrux books," Ron suggested.

"I don't think it's that simple," said Hermione.

"Why not? You got the Horcrux books, didn't you?"

Hermione didn't say anything for a while but then said uneasily, "I would agree that it is a good idea, Ron, but there is something about the soul book that makes me feel like it isn't that simple to be summoned like it did with the Horcrux books... I was thinking, though," she said. "If we ever come across a way to mend a soul, do you think it would be an easy task?"

Ron and Ginny gazed at her with a puzzled expression. When no one spoke, Hermione went on.

"You know how creating a Horcrux is very dangerous, right?" she asked both of them who nodded. "Not to mention, you have to commit murder, and that's evil enough for the caster. Do you think mending a soul would be as hard to do as well?"

Ron gulped, his eyes wide. "I would hope not. I don't want to kill someone and spend the rest of my life in Azkaban."

"Honestly, Ron, you're not going to kill someone," Hermione said while crossing her arms. "I'm only just saying that maybe there are certain tasks that you need to perform."

"Whatever tasks needed to be performed, I'm willing to do it," Ginny said flatly, and Ron gaped at her.

"I second that," said Hermione to Ginny, and they both smiled.

"What about you, Ron?" asked Ginny. "Are you gonna chicken out?"

Hermione smirked at Ginny. Ron scowled at them.

"I'm willing to do it, too!" he snapped at them. "And besides, you will need a man on your side."

Hermione and Ginny snorted with laughter. Without them knowing, Harry woke up and heard their laughter downstairs. He smiled and sadly thought to himself that it'd be nice to join them again.

**To be continued...**

* * *

**Beta-read by KVeronicaP**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My one-shot Draco Malfoy story called "Troubled Mind" is now posted. Do check it out!


	6. Chapter 6

It was raining, and the windows were now a solid, shimmering gray when Harry woke up early the next morning. He felt very sick. When he put up his hand to slid his glasses on, he felt a horrible headache as well. He walked slowly out of his darkened room and went downstairs to join the Weasleys and Hermione for breakfast. He was shaking so badly that he had to hold on tightly to the railings to keep himself from falling down. When he was halfway down the stairs, Ginny saw him and ran to his side. Hermione and the rest of the Weasleys, with the exception of Mr. Weasley who had already gone to work, looked up and suddenly appeared worried. They hadn't seen Harry so weak in the knees, and it was starting to unnerve them, but Harry still managed to smile at them all when he reached the table and seated himself across from Ron and Hermione. Ginny sat beside him.

"Are you feeling well, Harry?" Hermione asked, surveying Harry closely with a look of concern visible through her eyes.

Harry rubbed his temple, frowning slightly, but he gave a curt nod and a smile to Hermione. "Yeah. I just have a headache. That's all."

"You must be starving, dear," said Mrs. Weasley, watching Harry anxiously. She handed him a plate of sausages and toasts which he took gratefully.

Harry looked at his plate in a daze. The pounding in his head was not helping him eat. He was slowly losing his appetite and feared that he might throw up if he took a bite, but he didn't want to disappoint Mrs. Weasley either for not eating. He glanced at them and saw all of them looking back at him expectantly.

"How are you guys?" he asked Ron and Hermione. He wanted to start a small conversation with them since they rarely talked about anything else anymore, and by the laughter he heard last night, something good must have happened.

"We're doing well, Harry," said Hermione brightly. "I'm actually staying here at the Burrow for the rest of the summer before term starts at Hogwarts. My parents let me after a few attempts at convincing them."

"That reminds me, Hermione. How are your parents?" Harry asked her. He remembered the last time Hermione had talked about them. She modified her parents' memories to have them believe that they were different people, and she moved them to Australia so Voldemort wouldn't be able to track them down and interrogate them about her or Harry.

"They're doing great, actually," she said eagerly. "I lifted the charm that bewitched their memories and brought them home straight away after the war. You have no idea how happy I am to have them back. I've missed them so much."

Harry smiled at her and she beamed.

"Are you really going back to Hogwarts to finish your term, dear?" Mrs. Weasley asked Hermione after drinking her cup of coffee.

"Yes, Mrs. Weasley. I wanted to take my N.E.W.T.s and properly graduate."

Mrs. Weasley beamed at Hermione, but she pursed her lips abruptly and looked sternly at Ron who choked in his drink when he saw her look.

"You should be doing the same thing, Ron!" she snapped at him.

"Why? We battled Voldemort and won." Ron reasoned out, a look of indignation on his face. "Wasn't that enough proof that we did well in school? We did, didn't we, Harry?"

Shifting his shoulders uncomfortably, Harry raised his eyebrows and grinned at Ron despite his headache. "Whatever you say, Ron."

"Oh, please!" Mrs. Weasley rolled her eyes at her son. "Don't give me that nonsense."

"And why should we?" Ron continued bitterly, ignoring her mother's glare. "Harry and I are gonna be Aurors in no time to round up some more Death Eaters, aren't we?" He looked at Harry whose grin had disappeared, and he now looked glumly at his untouched plate. Everyone noticed his sudden change of demeanour. They all knew what Harry was thinking, and it broke their hearts as well.

"Are you going to eat, Harry?" Mrs. Weasley asked, looking anxiously at Harry again.

"Huh?" Harry was startled. His vision blurred as his head continued to ache, and a gnawing sensation grew in the pit of his stomach. With difficulty, he said, "I'm sorry, Mrs. Weasley, but could I lie down for a bit?"

Mrs. Weasley eyed him worriedly. "Sure, dear."

Harry stood, swaying slightly and started walking. His vision swam around him. He almost lost control of his balance and would have hit the ground if Ron hadn't caught him on time.

"Woah," said Ron as he held him tightly in his arms. "Take it easy, mate."

"I'm sorry," he said apologetically. He felt weak and shivery. "I'm not feeling really good today."

"Yeah. I can see that."

Hermione and Ginny exchanged anxious glances.

"I think you should lie down in the sofa for now," Hermione said, following them from behind. "You're not in good condition to walk up the stairs anyway."

Ginny propped some pillows on the sofa and ran upstairs to get his blanket.

Ron helped Harry lie down. Harry kept his eyes closed. He felt dizzy when he opened them. Ginny came back and draped the blanket on top of him. She sat beside him while Ron and Hermione took the armchairs on each side of them. Mrs. Weasley stood in front of Harry and checked his temperature; he was burning up.

Harry moaned softly and opened his eyes.

"What is it, Harry?" Ginny asked while caressing his forehead.

"I think I'm gonna be sick," he said weakly. He brought his hand to his mouth and doubled over, throwing up and violently heaving out his stomach contents on the floor. Mrs. Weasley immediately cast a Scouring charm to get rid of it. There was not much since he barely ate his breakfast. His breathing quickened, and cold sweat started to break out. Everyone else in the room was anxious.

"Ginny, get me some lukewarm water and some towels," Mrs. Weasley ordered quickly while caressing Harry's back for comfort as he continued to dry heave.

Ginny came bearing the water and towels.

"Set it down on the table for me, Ginny," Mrs. Weasley instructed her. "And dip the towel in the water. Let it soak for a few minutes."

Ginny did as she was told and kept shooting worried glances at Harry whose sweat glistened while he heaved.

"Oh my goodness!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed suddenly, bringing her hand to her lips.

Frightened, Ron asked, "Mum? What's wrong?"

Before she could say anything, all of them saw it. Harry was throwing up blood.

They all looked terrified at Harry. Harry didn't seem to notice what was happening though he began to moan in pain again, and his eyes watered. He stopped heaving and laid his head on the pillows, feeling extremely tired. Mrs. Weasley grabbed a towel and wiped Harry's mouth where blood was seeping through and running down his neck.

"Oh, Merlin…" Mrs. Weasley said under her breath, feeling very frustrated. "I can't take this," she said suddenly. "I'm getting a healing potion."

She stood up and disappeared into the kitchen. They all looked worried, but there was not much they could do but hope for Harry's sickness to stop.

Mrs. Weasley returned with a vial of healing potion. She knelt beside Harry and called out to him.

"Harry?" she said softly. "I brought you a healing potion."

Harry opened his eyes. He could barely see anything, but he felt the vial on his lips.

"Open your mouth, dear."

He obeyed weakly, and Mrs. Weasley poured the contents in. They waited with bated breath for the potion to take effect. Harry's breathing calmed, and his headache was gone the moment he gulped down the liquid. His temperature was slowly going back to normal as well. Mrs. Weasley cast a diagnostic spell, and everything seemed normal as it should be. She gave a deep sigh of relief. Ron, Hermione, and Ginny did the same.

"It's only a matter of time again before Harry's symptoms come back," Ginny said sadly in a low voice while watching Harry's exhausted form.

"Let me know right away if anything happens," Mrs. Weasley told the three teens who nodded, and she left.

They were all quiet. The shock was still evident on their faces, and the only thing they could do would be to standby and monitor Harry's condition. No one really knew when or at what time he would get sick again, and each time it came, it was worse than the last.

"Slughorn, where the hell are you?" Ron muttered in a whisper. He was getting nervous and scared. He went to the kitchen to grab some water for himself. Right at that moment, green flames erupted in the fireplace and Horace Slughorn stepped out, looking very exhausted and old as ever.

"Slughorn!" Ron exclaimed, bringing his cup of water down on the table. _About time,_ he said to himself. Hermione rushed in when she heard her former professor's name.

"Good morning to you two." Slughorn greeted them. He was carrying something in his hand which Hermione surely thought was the book they were waiting for. "I'm sorry if it took me a while to get back to you, but not to worry now. I got a book here." He placed the book on the table, but before Ron and Hermione could so much as look at it, Ginny ran into the kitchen, looking frantic.

"It's Harry!" she said in a frightened tone. They followed her to the living room where Harry was gasping for air and rubbing his chest.

"That's not a good sign," Ginny said fretfully. "I had seen that before." She immediately knelt in front of him. Ron and Hermione were right behind her.

"Harry? Is it that burning feeling? Is it starting again?" Ginny asked in a panic, her voice quivering.

Harry looked at her and nodded. Panic and fear appeared visibly in his eyes.

"Ron, call your mum. Quickly!" Hermione said nervously.

Mrs. Weasley came rushing in the living room a minute later, looking breathless. Ron tailed behind her.

"What's happened?" she asked them anxiously while kneeling beside Ginny and facing Harry.

Before they could tell her, they saw Harry double over on the sofa again, burying his face in his pillows and drawing a sharp intake of breath. Mrs. Weasley took Harry's hands that were starting to curl into fists.

"Harry," she said soothingly. "Listen to my voice and stay with me, okay?"

Harry tried to nod his head, but screams started to come out of his mouth. Mrs. Weasley could feel Harry's hands on hers getting tighter as she continued to say soothing words of comfort. Slughorn and the others could only watch in horror as Harry battled the excruciating pain. Hermione and Ginny were on the verge of tears. Ron kept his head lowered to the ground. He couldn't bear to see his best friend suffer like this. Each scream pierced his insides, and he could only hope to Merlin or to anyone who would listen that Harry's suffering would stop.

Harry was crying from the pain. It was like a fire burning his insides. He could feel his skin as though it was being ripped slowly from his body, and knives were slicing every inch of his limbs. It was pain beyond anything he could imagine, and his screams were the only thing that could ease a little of what he was feeling. He sobbed into his pillow, wishing for it to stop, wishing for someone to make it stop. He couldn't take this kind of torture anymore.

"… It's going to be okay, Harry…" Mrs. Weasley continued to talk to him. Harry was finding it really difficult to concentrate on her voice. "It's alright, dear. Everything's going to be fine…" but Harry continued to scream and writhe and cry.

"Ron, could you please help me hold Harry down? He could hurt himself." Mrs. Weasley asked worriedly. She was having difficulty steadying Harry as he continued to thrash violently. Ron grabbed his feet and pinned them on one side of the sofa, but Harry could feel the pain even more if he stayed still. Harry tried to break free of the strong grip, but he couldn't. The pain was unbearable. He screamed in agony and cried as much as he could.

"It hurts!" he gave an anguished cry as he continued to writhe and sob harder. "Please… let it stop… please…"

They all looked miserable when they heard Harry's desperate cry for help. No one could do anything, and it was crushing their hearts to pieces. Ginny and Hermione could only call out Harry's name and throw words of comfort, but even that was not helping him at all.

"How long does he have to endure the pain?" Ron asked, looking at them all. "The way he's screaming right now, I don't think he can take it any longer."

"Hours," Ginny answered him. "I heard his muffled screams one night and went over to check. I don't know if it varies each time, but Harry said it was happening as much now than the last time, remember?"

"Why didn't you tell me right away, Ginny?" Mrs. Weasley asked, looking disappointedly at her daughter.

"I'm sorry, mum," she said in a small voice. "But Harry told me not to leave him. He was really scared."

"Can't we really do anything? A healing potion?" Ron asked desperately. He was already growing tired of pinning Harry down to the sofa, and Harry's screams were making him feel weak as well. He looked at Slughorn whose eyes were horrified at the sight before him.

"Professor?" he called out to him.

"He took a healing potion an hour ago and it's ill-advised to take another for at least five hours." Mrs. Weasley informed Slughorn. Her hands were already getting numb from Harry's grip. "What else can we do?"

"A – a Calming Draught probably could help," Slughorn suggested nervously. "It will not take the pain away but –"

Mrs. Weasley stood up suddenly. Hermione immediately held Harry's hands when Mrs. Weasley let go and quickly dashed towards her potions cabinet to rummage through the bottles. Mrs. Weasley knew she had kept some in store for emergencies. At the bottom shelf, she saw it and quickly grabbed the vial.

The blue liquid swirled around in its container when Mrs. Weasley came back to where Harry was lying.

"Harry?" she said softly. "I have a potion that you need to drink." But Harry couldn't really hear her from his pain and screams.

Slughorn helped her hold Harry steady as they tried to pour the liquid to his mouth. He gagged a little and had a hard time swallowing, but some liquid managed to pass down his throat.

Hermione felt Harry's grip slacken but his breathing was still heavy.

Harry jerked away when Mrs. Weasley tried to touch his shoulder. She gestured for Ron to let go of his feet now that he was calming down. It left Harry physically exhausted and emotionally drained, but they could still hear him whimpering. His limbs felt like lead. Mrs. Weasley tried to call his name, but he was too weak to respond and too tired to open his eyes.

Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Slughorn were also in a weakened state as though they had been attacked by Dementors.

Mrs. Weasley placed the blanket again gently on top of Harry so as not to hurt him even more. She stood up and drew in a deep breath. Her energy had left her, and she looked as tired as the others. She made to go to the kitchen to get some water.

"I don't want to think about the number of times Harry has had to experience this," said Ron as chills ran down his spine. "If Harry has a high tolerance to pain, then what he was experiencing just now was probably the worst torture in hell."

They could only agree silently while they watched Harry trying to catch his breath. Mrs. Weasley returned with a cup of water for each of them. She cast another diagnostic spell at Harry; his fever was back.

"He's burning up again," Mrs. Weasley told the tense group. She wrung the soaked towel that Ginny brought earlier and placed it gently on Harry's forehead. She sat down in the armchair that Ron had vacated earlier and readjusted herself. She closed her eyes while from time to time she looked over at Harry on the sofa.

Silence fell on all of them for a moment as they assessed the situation. Harry's fever had been going haywire, and it was driving them crazy. As much as they wanted to get rid of his fever, it just wouldn't leave him alone. It was as though it had found its permanent residence in Harry's body and would leave only when it felt like it.

Harry felt really hot, and he couldn't stop himself from shaking and gasping for air. He could still feel his insides burning, but the feeling lacked that intensity which he had felt earlier. He took that as a relief, but he would still wince every now and then whenever he would move from where he was lying on. Eyes blurred with sweat, Harry opened them for only a fraction and saw hazy figures in front of him. _I must have scared them,_ he thought to himself sadly.

He was terrified of what was happening to him earlier and couldn't stop his tears from falling as he tried to stay strong. He didn't want to think of what could happen next. He was scared - really scared that he might not make it next time. His friends were one of the reasons why he was willing to hold on to his life. He didn't want to leave, he couldn't, he mustn't, but he couldn't think anymore. His eyelids were becoming too heavy to lift. He felt the last of his strength leave him as he faded into unconsciousness.

Slughorn looked down at them all. He was leaning against the wall near the window. His arms were folded and his eyes were closed. The scene that took place a while ago was still fresh in his mind. "What have you done, Tom?" Slughorn cursed from under his breath. "Harry doesn't deserve this. He is only a teenager who should be doing teenage stuff and not live like this where his life is bound and destroyed."

"Professor," Hermione said in a low voice, looking up at Slughorn. "We may have to take a look at the book now while Harry's resting."

"Yes, of course," said Slughorn, straightening up. Ron, Hermione, and Ginny stood and followed him back to the kitchen.

"I went straight to the Headmaster's office the moment I left the Burrow yesterday," Slughorn informed them.

"Were you able to talk to Professor Dumbledore?" Hermione asked Slughorn quietly.

"I did. He was peering down at me in his portrait when I arrived," said Slughorn thoughtfully. "I'm sure he wasn't expecting to see me, but he somehow knew why..."

They all sat around the kitchen table.

"Dumbledore knew the purpose of your visit?" Ron asked with a raised eyebrows. "How is that even possible?"

"He must've suspected my urgency with a mind like his... it wouldn't be surprising."

"What did he say, Professor?" asked Ginny.

"Well... all I can say is... given the fact that I only came this morning... it took me a while to get rid of the protective enchantment that Dumbledore placed around the book."

Ron frowned. "Why is there an enchantment?"

"Isn't it obvious, Ron? Dumbledore wanted to make sure that no one else could take it," said Hermione keenly.

"I know that!" snapped Ron. "I was just wondering why he placed an enchantment if he knew that Slughorn would need it someday? Why didn't he just hand it in?"

They all glanced at Slughorn.

"I honestly never thought I would need it, Mr. Weasley," Slughorn admitted in a serious voice. "After learning from Dumbledore that Tom Riddle had successfully created Horcruxes, I regretted it to the point that I gave up trying to know more about it. Dumbledore, however, immediately began to search tirelessly of any connection regarding the subject. He sought my help but I had already abandoned the will to go on much further. He found this book and never told me. Instead, he placed an enchantment to hide and to protect it."

"Why did it take so long to get rid of the enchantment, Professor?" Ginny questioned.

Slughorn sighed sadly. "Because Dumbledore had passed on. It was the nature of the spell that was cast to stay unyielding. But let's not dwell more about it. The book is here now."

All of them turned their gazes at once in the middle of the table. The book was a large volume, bound in a textured, white pearlescent covering that gave a pleasant shimmer as the morning light hit it. The title _Anima_ embossed in gold was right in its middle with silver wisp-like engravings surrounding most of the front and back cover.

"I haven't seen such an exquisite-looking book in my life," Hermione said in awe while delicately running her finger through it.

"What does Anima mean?" asked Ron, frowning.

"It's a Latin word for soul," Horace said simply. He looked at the front cover and secretly admired its design.

Ron stared at the engravings that stretched in different directions. "That looks creepy. If souls look like that, I don't think I would want one."

Hermione rolled her eyes at Ron and said, "It's only a representation of what souls would theoretically look like, Ron. Honestly!"

They sat around the table while gazing fixedly at the book. It looked out of place in the multi-coloured kitchen of the Burrow as far as Ginny could tell.

"Professor, why is the title in Latin?" Hermione asked curiously. "Is the whole book in Latin as well?"

"No. The texts inside are translated in old English," Slughorn informed them while opening the book. It looked so delicate with its paper turned yellow from old age, giving crisped sounds every time he flipped the page. "I don't really know for sure the origin of this book and why it was named in Latin. Regardless, based on what I've read so far, it was way older than the published Horcrux book." He laid the book back on the table.

"The soul's very existence allows magical forces to break apart one's soul for immortality, hence the name 'fragmented souls'," Slughorn continued. "If I remember correctly from Dumbledore, I believe this was the reason why a Horcrux book was created."

Ron grabbed the book and flipped through it as though looking for something. "Who wrote this? There was no listed author."

"The name doesn't matter, Ron," Ginny said. She snatched the book from his hand and put it back on the table. "It could be the cure that we need to find."

"Well, this better provide the answer that we're looking for. It's the only hope for Harry," said Ron as though he was ready to set the book on fire or tear it to pieces if it failed to provide the answer.

"Right," Hermione said as she gave a short nod.

Slughorn took the book again and started flicking through the pages until he had found what he was looking for. He pushed the book toward them and they read:

_A soul touched by evil slowly incinerates its own existence until it ultimately ends. It would amount to a higher price to recondition the soul back if attempted. And if it should fail, in accordance with who may have tried, the cost will, therefore, be marked the same as the other._

"What?" asked Ron, completely lost. The way it was written was giving him the chills. "What does that mean, 'marked the same as the other'?"

Ginny's eyes widened. She couldn't seem to find her voice, not to respond to Ron, but to simply utter her shock and horror. She stared up into the grave face of Hermione and felt as though the ground beneath her were falling sharply away. It was only last night when they had talked about the possibility of completing a hard task to help Harry, and they had expected as much but -

Hermione was trembling slightly. With great difficulty, she looked up at them and quietly said, "To put it simply, if we fail to fix Harry's soul, we suffer the same fate as him."

**To be continued...**

* * *

**Beta-read by KVeronicaP**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My one-shot Draco Malfoy story called "Troubled Mind" is now posted. Do check it out!


	7. Chapter 7

"WHAT!" Ron bellowed in anger after hearing what would grimly happen if the attempt to save Harry's soul should fail.

"Mending a soul isn't as easy as drinking a Healing potion, Mr. Weasley," Slughorn said bluntly. "The law of nature isn't very forgiving when it comes to something as formidable as this." He looked at Ron, Hermione, and Ginny's gaping faces. "There is always a price to pay."

"I kind of already knew this would happen," said Hermione, her eyes on the book. "Creating a Horcrux has consequences as well, and Professor Slughorn is right; mending one wouldn't be an easy task to do."

All of them silently pondered the information they had just read and discussed.

"I would highly suggest that you think about this thoroughly before making a decision," said Slughorn. "Your life will be all at stake once this is started."

"What do we have to do, then?" Ron asked, eyeing the book with a look of loathing. "Is there a list of tasks written in the book?"

Hermione turned the page and was about to read the contents when they heard Mrs. Weasley's desperate voice trying to calm Harry in the living room.

"Harry! Please listen…" she pleaded. Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Slughorn dashed in and saw her standing a few feet away from the sofa, her hands raised in a cautious manner, so as not to frighten Harry, and gazing imploringly at him. He was standing against the wall looking disoriented and frustrated at something unseen at the same time.

"Mum, what's going on?" Ron asked looking alarmed and bewildered at the pair of them. Harry caught sight of them.

"Ron!" he made his way toward him, stumbling a little as he did so. Mrs. Weasley hurried to Harry's side to help him, but he swatted her arms away.

"Harry, you have a very high fever right now!" she said, looking desperately anxious and exasperated. "You should be resting."

"Please, Mrs. Weasley. I'm fine," said Harry, walking away from her. He then looked at Ron and Hermione, whose eyebrows were raised. He whispered, "Why aren't we leaving?"

"Leave? Leave where, Harry?" Hermione asked him in confusion as she held Harry still. He shook so badly and couldn't seem to control his balance.

"Here!" he said, exasperated at Hermione's honest question. _Didn't they know we have to leave now?_ he asked himself.

"Why?" Ron asked Harry, frowning at him.

Harry looked at him in surprise. Had he gone mad, too? _Clearly he's joking, right?_ he wondered. "Look, we have to leave and find those – you know." He went closer to Ron and Hermione and said in a whisper, "Horcruxes."

Ron and Hermione exchanged worried glances. They had been fearing that something like this would happen to Harry. His mental state had been going on and off lately.

"Are you guys coming or what?" Harry asked his best friends. He felt increasingly impatient at the way they were looking at him. He was suddenly surprised to see Slughorn in the living room with them but didn't ask why he was there. Ginny was silently gazing at him as though he had gone mad.

"Harry…" Hermione was contemplating how best to approach the situations. She took a deep breath and said, "We already got rid of them, remember?"

Harry looked at her with complete shock. _T_ _hey coul_ _dn't have… not yet anyway,_ he told himself.

"What do you mean 'got rid of them'? ?" he asked, frowning at Ron and Hermione. He thought they were acting really strange and saying odd stuff, and he wasn't in the mood to waste time. "And remember what?"

Hermione gave a worried sigh. "We've destroyed all of them, Harry."

Harry gaped at her. _Surely she's kidding, right?_ he wondered uncertainly, but the serious look on his best friends' faces was evidence enough to accept the fact.

"When?" he challenged. "We didn't leave the Burrow, so how could we possibly have destroyed the Horcruxes?"

Ron glanced at Hermione who looked back at him anxiously.

"We left the Burrow after Bill and Fleur's wedding last year, mate," Ron filled him in, much to Hermione's relief as she was starting to lose her words. "We tracked down the Horcruxes and found out how to destroy them along the way. We were pretty much away from the Burrow and Hogwarts for months."

Harry felt his head pounding with so much confusion.

"That's not possible," he muttered under his breath. "We were upstairs in your room just now discussing it and –" he paused, random images flashed across his mind. He absentmindedly shook his head and brought his hand to it as though it was suddenly hurting him. "No… no, I – Voldemort must be killed then. He –"

They were all looking at him with extreme worry now.

Mrs. Weasley approached him from behind and touched his arm. "Harry, dear… you have to rest now," she said firmly. "You are really sick –"

"But Professor Dumbledore has a mission for us, Mrs. Weasley," Harry said as he tried to get away from her grip. "We need to leave and look for the –"

"I'm sure Dumbledore wouldn't mind you resting for a bit," she cut him off and dragged him back to the sofa.

"I don't need rest, please… Voldemort is out there still. I have to kill him," he pleaded. Ron, Hermione, and Ginny didn't seem to know what to do. They felt rather uneasy with their friend's mental breakdown.

"Ron." Mrs. Weasley gestured for him to come. Harry was still attempting to escape. "Help me with Harry. And Ginny, grab the Calming Draught and Sleeping potion please."

Harry went out of control when he realized what they were about to do to him. He pulled himself away from them but with no luck.

"NO!" he exclaimed to Ron and Mrs. Weasley who were pinning him to the sofa. "No, no… please. Please don't make me sleep, please… please…" he pleaded desperately in between failed attempts to get away from their strong hold.

Hermione watched Ginny reappear in the living room with tears in her eyes and holding two vials of potions. It was hard to watch Harry like this; it was unnerving both of them.

"Please… don't." Harry begged desperately when he saw the potions. He was struggling against Ron and Mrs. Weasley to stop. His cries echoed inside the Burrow. "No! Please… please…"

Slughorn rushed forward and helped them pour the contents of the potions consecutively into Harry's mouth.

Harry gagged and choked slightly as the potion was forced into his mouth. He stopped struggling at once and felt his body and mind weaken. He took several calming breaths before slowly drifting to sleep. Ron and Mrs. Weasley released their grip and immediately set about checking Harry's temperatures. Mrs. Weasley cursed under her breath when she saw his fever was still high after giving him a potion a few hours earlier.

"I'm running out of potions in my storage," she informed Slughorn. "I can brew some more, but I have to buy the ingredients."

"I can brew them, Molly," Slughorn offered. "I have a huge stock of ingredients in my potions lab. I can even ask Madam Pomfrey for some potions if you would like me to."

Molly nodded her thanks.

"I think it'd be best if we bring him upstairs to his room," said Molly. Slughorn scooted Harry's limp arms and hoisted him up. Even in his old age, Slughorn was still surprisingly strong. He could've levitated Harry, but seeing how small and light the boy was for his age, he thought it best to just carry him.

Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were eyeing Harry sadly as they followed Slughorn to Harry's bedroom. He laid him in his bed gently; feeling Harry's skin burning with fever. Mrs. Weasley wiped Harry's forehead from all the sweat that was forming on his brow. Harry's face was red, and he looked as though he were flushed.

"Mum, is he gonna be alright?" Ginny asked worriedly.

Molly looked at her, afraid to say anything but she had to. "I don't really know, Ginny. He had been through a horrific ordeal for a span of only hours. Later on, when he wakes up, he could be feeling the relapses all over again, and I wish he wouldn't. I don't think I could live another hour seeing him suffer so much."

"He was slowly losing his memories," Ginny said glumly. "I'm scared to think that he might not remember us, too." Ron and Hermione shifted uncomfortably from behind Ginny.

"I've been thinking the same thing," Ron said, staring at Harry. "I'm afraid that it might happen one day if the process of mending his soul keeps delaying." He sighed and hesitated to say what was in his mind, but he continued after a moment, with a swallow. "I have seen him lose his memories twice... suspected that this would happen again, and yet each time, I would lose my confidence. It's frightening to see the best friend I once knew to be healthy and strong to end up so sickly and fragile."

* * *

Arthur Weasley arrived home early that afternoon after hearing what had happened to Harry. He was so quick to leave work at once that he had cancelled several appointments and sprinted, causing many people on his way out of the Ministry of Magic to turn their heads, one of whom was his son Percy who currently worked as a trainee in the Department of Magical Transportation.

"Dad!" Percy called when Mr. Weasley accidentally collided into his shoulder when he passed by him hurriedly out of the Atrium. "What's going on? Why are you in such a hurry?"

Mr. Weasley stopped and spun around, looking breathless.

"Sorry, son," he said. "I got a letter from your mum," he held up the piece of paper in his hand. "Harry's terribly sick and getting worse."

Percy gaped at him. "What do you mean Harry's sick, dad?"

Mr. Weasley hurriedly put a finger to his lips to signal Percy to keep quiet. A group of wizards looked at them curiously when they heard Harry's name, recognizing it as the name of the famous Boy-Who-Lived and defeater of You-Know-Who.

Harry had become ever more popular when news broke into the whole wizarding community and other countries as well because he had finally succeeded in killing You-Know-Who. They had not heard anything from anyone about Harry Potter ever since, and they had been dying to see him, meet him, shake his hand, interview him, and all other impeding purposes.

Arthur went closer to Percy and whispered, "Not here, Percy. I'll tell you when I get back."

"But –"

"Now is not the time, son," he said quietly. "I have to leave. I'm sorry. I'll let you know as soon as possible." Arthur patted his shoulder and hastened away, leaving Percy alone with his own bewildered thoughts.

* * *

"Arthur..." Molly greeted sadly when her husband arrived at the Burrow. Slughorn looked up as the door opened. He was already in the fireplace and about to leave.

Molly hugged Arthur and he felt his wife's despair that was slowly showing on her frame. She looked stressed, and she hadn't been sleeping well despite her attempts since she always worried about Harry's deteriorating health.

"Horace came by to see Harry," Molly informed him. "He is on his way back to Hogwarts."

Slughorn gave a curt nod at Arthur's direction before grabbing a handful of Floo powder and disappearing from the flames.

"Where is Harry?" Mr. Weasley asked her after letting go of the hug.

Molly cleared her throat and said, "We put him upstairs in his bedroom. We gave him a Calming Draught and a Sleeping potion. He is becoming delusional and aggressive, Arthur," she informed him. "He's losing his memories just like the last time at the train station... He had been thinking he was being picked up by his muggle relatives. This time he thinks You-Know-Who was alive, and he wanted to leave to look for those Horcruxes and destroy them. Ron and Hermione just filled him in a few hours ago. They're in Harry's room right now."

Arthur looked grim as he listened to his wife.

"What about Slughorn? Has he found any book yet?" he asked. He had been thinking about Slughorn's visits to the Burrow lately and was informed about looking for a certain book that would lead them straight to the cure.

"He has found a book. They have it up there in Harry's room. I don't know anything about it. I don't believe they have gone through the rest of the book yet because Horace had to leave to brew more potions. I'm running out, and I don't know what else to do." Molly sat in one of the kitchen chairs looking worriedly at her husband who remained standing.

"Has Harry been eating well?"

"No," she said sadly. "He barely touched the food that I prepared for breakfast. He wasn't already feeling well when he came downstairs. He was still under the sleeping potion when we had lunch, too. I probably should brew a couple of nutritional potions for Harry to take if it comes down to it."

Arthur nodded his understanding.

"How's everything at the Ministry, dear?" Molly asked, trying to change the subject to lighten the depressing mood.

But Arthur could only bring bad news for now. He sighed and knew that he slightly contradicted himself when he replied, "Everything's fine. The Aurors have rounded up quite a bunch of Death Eaters. I haven't seen the wizarding community back in high spirits for seventeen years. You-Know-Who's gone, and they want to hear more of the Boy-Who-Lived. The way they were acting, I would assume they very much wanted his autograph, bombard him with questions, and all those nonsenses," he said with disgust. "They also said that Harry shouldn't be hiding, but instead, celebrate life in public with pride for being the saviour of the wizarding world. If only they knew what is really going on…" he trailed off, unable to say any more on what was in his mind.

"I wish they would just leave the poor boy alone," said Mrs. Weasley. "No one else knew about Harry's illness except us, right?"

"Well, I told Percy on my way here. I ran into him. He wanted to know why I was in such a hurry to get home, so I kind of told him that Harry's sick."

"How is Percy?" she asked. "He wouldn't tell anyone, would he?"

"Percy's alright," he said. "He wouldn't tell anybody. He knows it's family business so don't worry about him. And no one else knows, but as much as we want to keep it to ourselves, it may not be possible. People will eventually find out soon enough if Harry hasn't been seen for a long time and if there are no changes in Harry's health. It could cause suspicion, and they might start looking for his whereabouts. "

* * *

Meanwhile, in Harry's room, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were discussing what they had just read in the book. Ginny sat cross-legged beside Harry who was fast asleep behind her. She held the Anima book in her hands. Ron was on the floor looking totally bored out of his mind, his head lulling as he drifted on and off in his sleep. Hermione, on the other hand, paced back and forth in front of them in deep thought.

"Tell me the first ingredient again, Ginny," Hermione said in frustration. To her, the ingredients were annoyingly cryptic to even comprehend. However, they had learned that a certain potion must be brewed and drank by the one who would attempt to mend a soul. They had been throwing out guesses for hours now, and they felt they were not even close to reaching the right answer.

"A strand of an untamed creature that is a visage of death," Ginny read in an audible whisper.

Hermione made a frustrated sigh. "There are a lot of ferocious creatures that could possibly be a visage of death... like a werewolf."

At the mention, Ron got a distant look in his eyes when a memory suddenly flashed through his mind. The magnified eyes of Professor Trelawney opened dramatically, and a look of shock etched onto her face when she cried to Harry, "My dear, you have the Grim!" Ron blanched at the thought.

"Do you think we need to tame a werewolf?" Ginny gravely wondered out loud, causing Ron to come back to reality.

"Dragons are pretty nasty creatures!" suddenly stated Ron. "They look like death to me." Hermione stopped her pacing but gave Ron no reaction that she had heard him when she responded back to Ginny. He frowned, feeling as though he was being ignored.

"I haven't even heard of a tamed werewolf. I am hoping that we wouldn't have to... no..." Hermione said thoughtfully. "It would be impossibly difficult to tame considering a werewolf loses entirely its human sense of right or wrong."

"That's true," Ginny agreed. "Although I doubt that a werewolf suffers from a permanent loss of moral sense according to that one book that I have read. It's completely rubbish."

"Are you talking about a book called ' _Lupine Lawlessness: Why Lycanthropes Don't Deserve to Live'_?" Hermione asked, her eyebrows knitting together.

"Yeah, that's the one," answered Ginny. Ron scowled at them.

"I wouldn't bother reading that book again. The way Professor Emerett Picardy wrote his thoughts about werewolves... I just can't... all loaded with crappy information." Hermione resumed her pacing. "What other creature than a werewolf could possibly symbolize death?"

"Dragons... crows... thestrals... the Grim..." Ron kept throwing some guesses. He shuddered at the thought of the Grim once again, remembering Harry's pattern in the teacup which he perceived at first was a bowler hat.

"Dragons _could_ be true," Hermione said distantly when a memory of the dragon they saw in Gringott's bank suddenly showed on her mind.

Ron blinked for suddenly being regarded by Hermione, but she shook her head and said, "But I don't think it -" Her face suddenly lit up when the realization hit her.

"Thestrals!" she exclaimed.

"As crazy as it sounds, there was a time when Luna mentioned something about a creature that no one else can see unless you've seen death." Ron disclosed, relieved.

Ginny smiled and said, "That's it, then."

"Oh, Ron!" Hermione squealed in delight. "

Ron raised his eyebrows at her, and asked, "But aren't they only good for pulling carts at Hogwarts or to transport you by flying?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Don't be silly, Ron. We studied them in Care of Magical Creatures with Hagrid, remember?"

"I still have the book," Ginny informed them. "We can look it up." Without waiting for an answer, she stood up and made her way to her room to fetch it.

"Ugh!" Ron slumped on the floor and glared at them. "More reading?"

"Honestly, Ron!" Hermione snapped at him. "You weren't really helping us. All you ever did was sleep."

"I did not!" he defended loudly causing Harry to shift in his sleep, but Harry didn't wake. Ron decided to just continue his glare at Hermione.

Ginny came back with the book in her hand. She opened the page to where "Thestral" was located and handed it to Hermione. She took it with great enthusiasm and started reading the contents silently.

"I found something," she said to them. "It is rumoured that the tail hair of a Thestral has been used as a powerful wand core."

"Rumored?" asked Ron.

"There might be a reason why," said Hermione. "We can ask Professor Slughorn when he comes back."

"Could that wand core possibly be in the Elder Wand?" Ron tried to guess. "It's the most powerful, right?"

"There's a high chance that it could be," muttered Hermione.

"So we need a strand of hair from a Thestral, then?" Ginny asked, wanting to confirm their suspicion now so they could move on to the next ingredient.

"I would think so," said Hermione. "I mean, it fits all the criteria in the book, and I don't know any other creatures that are a visage of death, do you?"

"Let's say we agreed on the Thestral," Ron chimed in. "How do we get the hairs then if we can't see them?"

Silence momentarily fell on them, and only Harry's breathing could be heard.

Hermione looked outside the window and said in a quiet voice, "I'm sure we can already see them. We've witnessed enough deaths at the war. The battle at Hogwarts took many lives, and as much as I would have wanted to refrain from witnessing someone dying, I just have to accept it."

Ron and Ginny nodded at her silently.

"Are the Thestrals at Hogwarts tamed?" Ron asked suddenly.

"Hagrid suspects that they're the only trained large group of Thestrals in the whole of Great Britain," Hermione said, remembering the class they had on their fifth year before Dolores Umbridge ruined his teaching career.

"Then, we have to find a wild one?" he asked.

"Yes," she said simply.

"But where? You don't think we have to leave the country and look for one, do you?"

"That's exactly what I think," said Hermione. She read another passage on Thestrals and said, "They're native in Ireland as well as Great Britain according to the book, and some parts of France and the Iberian Peninsula... but they are very rare, too, so we may have a hard time looking for them."

"Maybe Hagrid can help," Ginny suggested. "If there is someone who knows everything about Thestrals and other creatures, that would be Hagrid."

Hermione nodded. "That's true. We can send him a letter or we could go and visit him at Hogwarts."

"I can imagine his reaction once he finds out why we need the hair of a Thestral," said Ron glumly. "He'll go ballistic."

Hermione considered what he said. "But we don't have a choice here, do we? Harry's dying and we need to do something."

"I'm sure Hagrid will understand," said Ginny.

"Oh, he will after he strangle us!" Ron said sarcastically.

"Regardless whether Hagrid understands or not," said Hermione. "It wouldn't be easy to tell anybody what we plan on doing –"

"Doing what?" Harry asked suddenly. Ron, Hermione, and Ginny jumped in surprise.

"Harry!" they called.

Harry had finally awoken from his sleep and heard only a snippet of what Hermione was saying. He still felt groggy, but he managed to sit up straight in his bed. Ginny automatically slipped his glasses in his face.

"Doing what, Hermione?" he asked again, his voice raspy.

"N–nothing, Harry," she said nervously, casting a look at Ron and Ginny who were nervous as well for almost being heard. The one person they never wanted to tell for now was Harry. They knew he wouldn't take it lightly if he found out, and they remembered Harry wouldn't want anybody risking their life just for him; he had protested against situations like that many times already.

"How are you feeling, mate?" Ron asked, trying to save Hermione who was obviously bad at hiding things and lying about them.

Harry was still in a daze but managed to say, "I feel weak but I'm okay, I guess. Did I miss breakfast? I can't really remember anything."

"You tried to have breakfast," said Ron. "But you missed lunch. Are you sure you can't remember what happened a few hours ago?"

"Why? Did something happen?" asked Harry. His hair was looking dishevelled.

"You were saying odd stuff about looking for Horcruxes and wanting to leave the Burrow to kill Voldemort. Do you remember any of that?"

"I was what?" Harry tried to rack his brain but shook his head. "No. I don't remember."

"Well, don't worry about it now, Harry. You must be starving already," said Ginny.

Harry nodded and made to get up. He could feel his knees not cooperating when he wobbled a little as he stood. Ginny grabbed his arm before he hit the ground.

"Are you sure you want to walk, Harry?" Hermione asked after finally letting go of her nervousness.

"Yeah," Harry said weakly. "Although I would need some assistance since I don't think I can walk steadily."

It was painstakingly slow as they made their way downstairs. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley rushed forward when they saw them coming down.

"Mum, do you have any dinner ready?" Ginny asked. "Harry's starving."

"Yes, of course, dear." Mrs. Weasley said with a smile at Harry and walked frantically onto the kitchen to set the table.

"How are you feeling, Harry?" Mr. Weasley asked, guiding him to a chair.

"I'm still feeling weak but I'm doing well, Mr. Weasley."

Mr. Weasley patted his shoulder and sat down next to him. Harry saw him setting aside the Daily Prophet newspaper away from the table.

"I haven't had the chance to ask, but how's the Ministry doing so far?" Harry asked. Mrs. Weasley set a bowl of stew and vegetable salads in front of them while eyeing Mr. Weasley beadily.

Mr. Weasley smiled sadly at Harry and said, "To tell you the truth, Harry, the celebrations after the war haven't died down, not even in the slightest." He cleared his throat and continued. "They actually want you out there with them and not to just disappear. Kingsley Shacklebolt is trying his best to change the course of any talk to something else so you would get peace of mind, but unfortunately, people always tend to bring up your name; they want you badly."

"But, of course, we wouldn't let anyone know what you have been doing nor your whereabouts, so you won't have to worry, dear." Mrs. Weasley added quickly, assuring him of his safety. She cast a charm to have some more bowls of stew zoom on the table.

Harry lowered his head. "I'm sorry," he muttered sadly. Everyone looked at him.

Mr. Weasley cocked his eyebrow and asked, "Why are you sorry, Harry?"

"For the trouble that you have to put up just so I could live a normal life."

"You never have to apologize for wanting something like safety in your life, Harry," said Mr. Weasley softly. "Everyone here knows how important it is for you to get away from all that unwanted fame that you didn't ask for in the first place. You have all the rights for a normal life."

"Oh, Harry." Mrs. Weasley squeezed his shoulders. "Let's eat before the food gets cold."

All the attention turned back to the food whose scent wafted deliciously in front of them. Harry's stomach growled suddenly, and he found himself very eager to eat, much to everyone's delight.

They were halfway on their bowls when Harry, a thoughtful expression on his face, asked his friends, "So what were you guys discussing earlier when I was asleep?"

Ron choked suddenly and quickly exchanged nervous glances, of which Harry missed for a fraction of a second, with Hermione and Ginny who fidgeted in their seats.

"Job applications," lied Hermione. "You know, we were planning on doing it."

"Oh, you changed your mind of continuing your final year at Hogwarts?" asked Harry who also turned to Ginny and asked, "You're going back to school, right?" Ginny gave a curt nod.

Hermione tensed. "N–no, Harry. I'm still taking my final year."

Harry frowned at her, totally confused. "But you said –"

"I meant, Ron's doing the job applications now, and we plan on doing ours once we graduate, right Ginny?" Hermione asked her quickly, and the younger girl nodded again.

Harry could tell that they were hiding something. He had known Hermione for seven years and he knew how much of a bad liar she was.

"So, what's in the Anima book?" he asked, taking a bite of the salad. "I saw it when we were about to leave the room." Upon hearing it, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley looked at each other in confusion.

Ron's fork fell in his plate in a loud clatter at the mention of the book while Hermione sat frozen on the spot, the stew that she was about to eat was dripping from her spoon. Ginny was nervously looking between Ron and Hermione, unsure whether to say anything or not. Harry didn't miss a thing.

**To be continued...**

* * *

**Beta-read by KVeronicaP**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My one-shot Draco Malfoy story called "Troubled Mind" is now posted. Do check it out!


	8. Chapter 8

After dinner, Harry sat in his bed with Ginny beside him, holding her hand. Ron, Hermione, and Ginny already decided to fill Harry in on how Slughorn managed to find the book and on what they'd read in it.

 _"For now, we have to keep the secret from Harry that we are the ones attempting to mend his soul,_ " Hermione had stated firmly and hastily to Ron and Ginny after pulling them aside in the empty seating room after dinner that night. _"We couldn't risk him knowing it yet. He surely won't take it well."_ Ron and Ginny had agreed, looking downcast.

"The first ingredient," said Harry after listening to Hermione describe the ingredients that they had read in the book. "You think it is a Thestral's hair?"

Hermione went back to her pacing again while Ron sat on a chair beside the desk. He was nervous at the discussion they were having with Harry which he knew would inevitably reveal their purpose which Hermione had warned them against revealing sooner than he had thought.

"Yes," she answered. "It's very fitting concerning how it was described in the book, unless you know of something else, Harry."

Harry shook his head and asked, "How are we getting the hair?"

"Well," Hermione was looking at Ron and Ginny, not entirely sure whether or not to tell Harry that they were planning on asking Hagrid. "We actually don't know yet. We need wild Thestrals, and they're rare."

"I think I know who can help us," Harry said excitedly, but the rest of them already knew who it was.

"Hagrid?" Ron asked just to fill Harry's question quickly.

Harry was taken aback. He didn't know Ron could read his mind. Ron gave an uncomfortable smile.

"Yeah," he said. "He liked those creatures, so maybe he knows where to find wild ones."

Hermione nodded. "You're right, Harry. We could send him a letter."

"I'll do that," Ron volunteered quickly, and Harry was surprised again at Ron's behaviour, not that it was bad, but there was something odd about him that made Harry suspicious of the three of them. Ron, on the other hand, didn't want Harry to know that they were planning to tell Hagrid about Harry's situation.

"Right," said Hermione shortly. "Now that we've decided on that, let's move on to the next ingredient."

"Oh, finally," muttered Ginny.

Hermione held the book and read it aloud:

_A piece of the doorway where life departs_

They all stared blankly at Hermione. Ron could have sworn that each ingredient gave him a big headache.

"Seriously, why can't they just make it simple like 'a pinch of salt'?" Ron asked in an exasperated tone. "So is it referring to a gate on the cemetery?"

"Is it like a portkey?" Ginny piped up.

"Hmmm…" mused Hermione, unsure of Ginny's guess. "Portkeys instantly brings anyone touching it to a specific location… it could be the doorway, but it's very unlikely. It doesn't make sense to the part where it mentioned 'where life departs'."

"A portal of some sort, then?" Ginny guessed again. "It would make perfect sense if it referred to a portal. But looking for the doorway where it would lead someone to the afterlife seemed impossible to find. Honestly, I'm running out of ideas."

"We can talk to a dead person and ask whether they know of a doorway," Ron suggested sarcastically. "Maybe they could tell us."

"Ron's idea isn't bad at all," stated Ginny. "We can talk to a ghost at Hogwarts if we really have to."

"Do you think they would know?" asked Hermione, looking doubtful. "I mean, if they know about a doorway, their soul would have departed already, wouldn't they? They wouldn't stay as ghosts forever."

"Is there any other way then to talk to a ghost who has departed?" Ron asked in a hopeless voice.

"There's one," said Hermione. "I know it's simply pointless to even bring it up since it was lost in the forest..." she glanced uncertainly at Harry.

"You mean, the Resurrection stone?" Ron asked in earnest, knowing instantly to what she was referring.

Harry looked up at them at once. At that moment, his memories in the Forbidden forest came flooding back in his mind. He had turned the stone over in his hand three times, enabling him to talk to his parents, Sirius Black, and Remus Lupin. He remembered they had been neither ghost nor truly flesh. Along with Ron and Hermione, Harry had told Dumbledore's portrait that he had dropped it in the Forbidden Forest and would not go looking for it again to which Dumbledore had quickly agreed.

"Yes," Hermione answered Ron. "The stone has the power to recall the dead, but - well..." she trailed off.

Harry watched them uncomfortably. There was nothing they could do about the stone. He wouldn't be able to pinpoint exactly where, and to go looking for it again would be extremely hard and a waste of time. He wanted to help his friends, but like Hermione had said, it would be pointless.

"Let's just forget about the stone," said Ron quietly. "Do you know of any other way to talk to a departed soul?" He looked expectantly at his friends, but all of them stayed silent.

Harry closed his eyes and remembered the night he talked to his parents and his godfather, Sirius. He missed him so much. Harry still couldn't believe the dream he had of him floating away and dying on the Veil –

Harry gave a sharp intake of breath abruptly. He opened his eyes and tried to repeat the ingredient in his mind, _'A piece of the doorway where life departs'_. His heart hammered fast. _Could it be that the Veil is a doorway because a soul might depart on it just like what happened to Sirius?_ he thought seriously to himself. It made perfect sense, and it fit!

Harry chose this moment to intervene. "Yes," he voiced out suddenly, his eyes glinting fervently at them all.

Hermione stopped her pacing which Ron thought was a relief as it had started to annoy him.

"What do you mean, Harry?" she asked eagerly.

"The Veil," he said simply. At first, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny didn't understand what Harry meant about 'The Veil', and slowly, as though a fog had cleared their minds, realization finally dawned on their faces.

"Yes!" Hermione squeaked with delight. "Oh my goodness, Harry. Why didn't I think of that?"

"Why didn't you tell us earlier?" Ron questioned, he was a little surprised at Harry, but he gave a smirk that said ' _Well done_ ' for saving their minds from overthinking.

"I only just remembered the dream I had of Sirius floating away on some sort of an archway," Harry answered Ron. "And then you told me he fell through the Veil."

"Couldn't you still remember the whole thing of what happened that day?" asked Ginny. She was looking at Harry sadly.

Harry thought for a moment. "I've had flashes of memories... but they're all jumbled in my head in some way. Anyway -" He straightened up. "Let's just say for now that we've figured out the second ingredient, how do we get there? And what does it mean 'a piece of a doorway'? Do we have to dig in the rock surrounding the Veil?"

"It was very hard and confusing to get to it," reckoned Hermione, thinking hard. "The Death Chamber where the Veil is located is a room in the Department of Mysteries. To be able to get there, we have to take the lifts to level Nine from the Ministry Atrium. Apart from the plain black door that leads to the Entrance Chamber, that level has no other windows or doors... and the chamber has a circular room with handleless doors that would disorient any unauthorized personnel, but it would respond to a verbal request for an exit by the opening of the correct door."

"We might have to ask someone from the Ministry if they could do us a favour of getting that piece," Ron advised. "Mind you, it'll be difficult to let them agree on us that easily. They will want explanations as to why they're doing it."

"Maybe dad or Percy can help us," Ginny suggested. "Dad has been inside the Department of Mysteries when he was guarding the prophecy like two years ago. He would know of the Veil for sure."

Ron snorted at hearing Percy's name. "Sure, dad can do it, but I don't think I would trust Percy that much. He's such a nosy git if you ask me and only thinks of his own well-being. I still haven't forgiven him after what he did to our family."

"He's changed already, Ron," Ginny argued. "He knows where he stands now... and don't forget, he gave up his room to Harry so he can live with us. Isn't that enough proof? You need to forgive him. He means no harm to us now."

"I'll forgive him if he even knows where the Veil is at." Ron snapped at her. "I'm sure he doesn't even know how to get to the Department of Mysteries."

Ginny could only sigh in frustration. Harry knew from experience that it was always hard to argue with Ron when things got tough. Ignoring this was the only way.

Hermione suddenly chimed in to break Ron and Ginny's momentary argument. "To answer your question, Harry, I think you're right. They would have to dig and get a piece of the stone archway since it asks for a 'piece' of it."

"Do you imagine yourself drinking the potion with a piece of stone in it – plus the hair of a Thestral?" asked Ron, looking disgusted. "I think I'm gonna be sick before I even ask what the third ingredient is."

Then all of them quickly looked at the third ingredient that, according to the book, was the second to the last before they would start brewing. It read:

_A tear from a guise to obscure from demise_

"A what?" they chorused altogether after reading, except Hermione.

Ron scratched his head, obviously not liking what he had just read.

"'A guise to obscure from demise'," he repeated and stared at his two best friends who were in deep thought as well. "What does it mean?"

"Well," began Hermione. "See here," she indicated the word 'guise' and said, "It means form," then she read the next one, "Obscure means 'undiscovered' or 'unknown', while this –" she pointed at the word 'demise'. "Means 'death'," she expertly translated to them.

"So, you're saying…?" Ron tried to guess but his mind had apparently failed to work at the moment.

"– That we have to look for a certain form that cannot be discovered by death." Hermione finally declared.

All three of them stared at their friend who was patiently waiting for them to give out suggestions. When no one spoke, she sighed and said, "Let's put it this way, what makes a form undiscovered?"

"When you try to hide?" Harry asked uncertainly.

Hermione nodded. "And hiding from death means?" she gestured for Harry to continue with his guesses.

"Hang on," said Ron, looking bewildered. "Is it even possible to hide from death? I mean, if it's your turn to die, you die. There's no other way around it, is there?"

"I don't think it refers to the actual dying," explained Hermione. "I think it refers to Death itself. So let's go back to my original question, shall we?" She eyed them all with excitement, and they nodded. "Hiding from Death means?"

"You have to be _invisible_ ," Harry answered at once. "And to do that, you have to have the –"

"Invisibility Cloak!" The three of them chorused again. Ginny had a look in her eyes that showed how enthusiastic she was for finally unveiling the cryptic ingredients.

"But the question is," Ginny spoke to them after a while. "Where is the cloak?"

Harry wondered that too, but Hermione was prompt to answer it for Ginny.

"I still have it in my beaded bag."

"Did you bring the bag, then?" Harry asked right away.

"Yes, I brought it with me when I came here. It's in Ginny's room. I haven't really had the chance to empty the contents, so all the things we brought with us when we left the Burrow a few months ago are still there."

Harry was relieved to hear that. He was about to panic at the thought that Hermione might not have had it with her that whole time.

"What do we do with the cloak, then?" Ron asked curiously.

Hermione looked hesitant to say the next step, especially to Harry. She knew he wouldn't like it, but she had no choice.

"We tear it," she whispered without looking at any of them.

"What?!" Harry asked loudly as though he hadn't heard the first time. He wanted to hear it wrong so badly and not let Hermione confirm it again. Ron and Ginny were looking at them tensely.

"It's what it said in the book, Harry." Hermione croaked nervously.

"But –"

"We only need to rip a small portion of it," she asserted quickly, and added in a low voice, "I believe."

Harry's mouth hung open, still not believing that they actually had to ruin the cloak.

"But the Cloak of Invisibility is like the king of all cloaks!" declared Ron. "Could you really rip it apart?" He gazed at Hermione uncertainly.

"Remember, Xenophilius confirmed that no enchantments or spells can rip or damage it, but only the possessor of the cloak can," she glanced at Harry who looked away quickly. "You are the possessor, Harry."

Harry found it hard to believe Hermione's words at the moment. He valued the cloak for so long; it had been passed down from generations to generations and only to be torn down by, who else, but him. He didn't want to accept it, but - _What else can I do?_ he frustratedly asked himself silently.

"It's probably the only way, Harry," Hermione said softly after a moment of silence. "I'm sorry."

Harry nodded his understanding but didn't bring it up again. Hermione was glad enough to leave it and checked the last ingredient in the book.

_A drop of the afflicted's blood_

"It's my blood," Harry said simply. There was no need to deduce it. It was simple, and Hermione nodded.

"How long do you guys think we have to wait before we have collected all the ingredients?" Ginny asked.

Hermione began calculating mentally. "Since we have the last two ingredients... we will only be needing the Thestral's hair... and the piece of the archway. Hopefully, it wouldn't take us months before we get them."

"Months?" Ron asked incredulously. "I don't think Harry –" he stopped abruptly after realizing what he was about to say. He glanced at Harry apologetically, but Harry dismissed his meaning.

"It's okay," Harry mumbled, paying his attention elsewhere other than at Ron or anyone else. "I know you meant to say that I don't have that much time left. I wish I could say that it's not true, but I would only be lying to myself. So I guess it's best for me to say... I'll just do what I can to stay alive."

Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were silent for a moment.

"We will have to ask dad about the Veil, Ron," Ginny told him quietly. "And send the letter to Hagrid straightaway."

"It's too late now," Ron pointed out, checking the time on the wall. "Dad's asleep and Pig won't want to deliver a mail at midnight knowing the recipient is fast asleep as well."

"Let's do it early the next day, then," she suggested and looked at Harry apologetically, but he just merely shrugged as though saying it didn't matter to him.

"So, how long do we have to brew this potion?" inquired Ron, his eyes travelling from Hermione and to the book that she held. "Does it say?"

Hermione checked. "Only an hour. The ingredients are really hard to find for someone who hasn't got any knowledge about –" she gasped suddenly.

"What?" everyone asked her in alarm.

"I only just realized – but it must be just a coincidence as well," Hermione's eyes were wide while she muttered under her breath.

"Just say it already, will you?" Ron cried with an exasperated sigh. With all the times they had to guess the ingredients, Harry could tell that it had started to annoy Ron, and even he had become rather impatient.

"The three ingredients," she uttered excitedly. "They are very similar to the Deathly Hallows!"

They all looked astonished.

"I would assume that the tail hair of the Thestral is a very powerful core to be used in a wand," Hermione explained quickly. "And the only powerful wand we know existed is the Elder Wand. The archway of the Veil enables you to look through the afterlife like the Resurrection stone –"

"No wonder I could hear faint whispering and murmuring noises as though someone was standing right behind the Veil and trying to communicate with me when I approached it," Harry confessed, unsure of why he had remembered it all of a sudden like it hadn't left his mind, but only the death of Sirius had been lost. He seemingly thought his memories had been put in disarray and he had a hard time putting them back together.

"Right," agreed Hermione. "And Harry's Cloak of Invisibility is the same as the one in the story, making all three ingredients exactly like Deathly Hallows."

Confused, Ron asked, "So... what does that have to do with anything?"

"This makes me confident that we have the right ingredients - just like having the three hallows makes you a Master of Death. This, perhaps, does the same with a sickness like Harry's," replied Hermione assertively.

Ron mused. "And you said it only takes an hour to brew the potion... but why is the time so short?"

"Looking for the ingredients are complicated enough that no one would probably dare try and do it," guessed Hermione. "And brewing it I would say... The ingredients have one similar power in them that mixing them as one wouldn't take that long."

All these revelations made Harry's heart beat faster. He breathed a sigh of relief. He began to feel excited and hopeful that looking for a cure was very much possible. Harry spoke with excitement before he could even stop himself. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but I can't wait to drink that potion and be done with this damaged soul!" His face broke into a smile as renewed hope came into existence inside him.

If there was one thing that Harry wasn't expecting to see after figuring out the ingredients, it was the reactions he received from Ron, Hermione, and Ginny. He could see fear and alarm on their faces as though they had swallowed something they shouldn't. He could feel Ginny's hand turn ice-cold as he held hers, Ron had suddenly broken out with sweats, and Hermione just stood transfixed on the spot looking rather petrified.

"What's going on?" he asked uncertainly; he began to look terrified at their ongoing reaction. "Did I say something wrong?"

No one dared to glance at Harry. Hermione fidgeted nervously and miserably failing to calm herself. Ron and Ginny averted their eyes somewhere else.

"What?" Harry asked them again, slowly losing his patience.

Hermione made a deep, nervous breath and said in a quivering voice, "Harry… d-don't be mad and please hear me out f-first."

"Why? What did you do?" he asked in a dangerous voice.

"N-nothing," squeaked Hermione. "We did nothing, Harry."

"So what's the problem, then?" he asked impatiently.

Hermione hesitated. Her throat seemed dry at the moment. She looked at Ron and Ginny for help, but they only gave her worried glances. She cleared her throat and said, "Harry… the potion is meant to be drunk by… us."

"What!"

Hermione's revelation had left Harry totally flabbergasted. _Clearly they had read the book wrong,_ Harry thought in alarm. "But why? There must be a mistake. I am the one with the damaged soul, so I should be the one drinking the potion, right?" Harry glanced at them for confirmation.

"Harry, the book didn't say that you were the one who had to drink it," Ginny said softly in spite of her nervousness. "But the one attempting to save your soul have to."

Harry felt like his head was going to burst. He stared at Ginny with a mingle of worry and panic. "Wait - what are you saying, 'the one _attempting_ to save?'" But Harry somehow already knew what it meant.

"We are the ones attempting to save your soul, mate." Ron finally disclosed the secret Hermione had warned them against revealing from the beginning. "We are the ones drinking the potion."

Harry shook his head in protest. "No, that couldn't be right. You must've read the instructions wrong."

"It's the only way, Harry." Hermione quietly stated.

"The only way to save my soul?" Harry asked incredulously.

Ron frowned at him. "Why? Do you really think you will be doing this all by yourself?"

"That's exactly what I think!" snapped Harry, frustration bursting inside him. "I don't want any of you to be involved –"

"It's our decision!" Ron fired back. "We're saving your life even if it means we have to risk our soul –"

Harry was stunned.

"WHAT!" he bellowed. Did I hear you right? _You're_ going to risk your soul?" Harry's mind was in a panic.

Ron was terrified for accidentally spilling the truth to Harry.

"Harry, please listen!" cried Hermione who was now extremely frantic.

But Harry chose not to listen. He suddenly stood up and grabbed the book from Hermione who only realized too late what Harry was doing. He turned the pages quickly as though checking for something. His inside had gone numb when he reached the page from which they had been reading and his eyes scanned over the part where it said, _'It would amount to a higher price to recondition the soul back if attempted. And if it should fail, in accordance with who may have tried, the cost will, therefore, be marked the same as the other.'_ He was tremendously devastated. He could feel his blood draining and his hands shaking. Harry dropped the book on the floor and stumbled to the bathroom where he threw up all the contents he had ate that afternoon.

Ron, Hermione, and Ginny quickly followed him out. They watched him worriedly as he retched and heaved in the toilet. Ginny rubbed his back to comfort him and heard him sob silently. Ron and Hermione exchanged a sad look.

 _… Marked the same as the other..._ Those words kept repeating in Harry's mind. _They can't do this. They shouldn't do this. Their own souls will be in danger!_

"Please…" Harry muttered weakly. "Why you –" he heaved. "All want to risk your life?"

"Isn't it obvious, mate? We're family... and families help each other," Ron replied calmly.

Harry silently considered this. "But if you fail in this attempt –" his vision went foggy from unshed tears.

"Who said we're going to fail?" Ginny asked unbelievably. "It seems as though you expect us to mess it up. You have to have faith in us, Harry."

"You do trust us, don't you?" asked Hermione in a little disheartened tone of voice.

"I do," Harry answered quickly as he leaned his back on the wall and sat on the floor. "I have faith in you guys. I'm sorry if it doesn't seem like it… I just don't like the idea of all of you trying to risk your life just to save me. Your souls will suffer the same fate as me."

"We've gone over that consequence, Harry," reasoned Hermione. "We've already decided to push through with it regardless."

"Plus, it's not as exciting if there's no risk involved. _Ow!_ " exclaimed Ron when Hermione stepped on his foot. "Besides, aren't you glad that you have us to help you out or else you're doomed? This is a fight you cannot take by yourself, Harry. You have to have backups in order to win."

Harry smiled at that. He was lucky to have friends who were willing to be by his side no matter what, but he still couldn't stop himself from feeling sad and worried for their well-being. They had made it sound like it was an easy task to do. It was true that they had taken risks and had overcome most of them, but he only wished this time that the chance that they were about to take would not fail, and instead, succeed so as to say it was worth it.

Harry slept fitfully that night. Images of his friends with their souls being ripped slowly and painfully apart because of him kept flashing in his mind. In the middle of the night, he laid awake in his bed thinking about the ingredients and summarizing what he had just learned. They had gone this far, and it was only a matter of time before his friends would start brewing the potion, drink it, and risk their lives. But a sudden question popped in his head, _Does it say in the book that it needs all three people when attempting to save a soul?_ He didn't remember it being mentioned in the book. He would have to ask Hermione when she woke up. He closed his eyes and went back to sleep.

**To be continued...**

* * *

**Beta-read by KVeronicaP**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To those who have read this chapter, I hope you enjoyed it. Thank you for all the kudos, as well as those who bookmarked and subscribed. It was always inspiring and encouraging to continue writing. Once again, thank you for supporting this story! 
> 
> My one-shot Draco Malfoy story called "Troubled Mind" is now posted. Do check it out!


	9. Chapter 9

The morning sunlight poured through the window in Harry's room. Surprisingly, Harry felt really good that morning. He hardly ate that much anymore, but this time though, he finished breakfast complaining at how full his stomach was.

"It's a good thing that you got your appetite back," said Mrs. Weasley, clearly pleased to see Harry eating normally again.

This sudden feeling of health and interest in eating was somewhat odd in Harry's opinion. Truthfully, he didn't have the slightest idea what was really going with his damaged soul. He had felt ill for three weeks straight, and now it was like he was never ill in the first place. The change had started to scare him, but at the same time, it was something he wanted and needed in his life for once, allowing him not to worry.

Harry laid back down again in his bed with his friends around him. He wanted to talk to them more, and so right after breakfast, they went straight to Harry's room to talk about how best to tell Hagrid and Mr. Weasley about the ingredients, whom they had decided previously ought to hear about what they had planned.

"Don't you think it would be better off if we go to Hagrid personally and ask about the Thestral's hair instead of sending him a letter?" Harry asked, remembering Ron's eagerness at the time to owl Hagrid early the next day.

"Hagrid would be pleased to see us for sure," said Hermione, but Harry doubted whether Hagrid would be pleased once he found out the purpose of their potential call. "I wonder how's he doing now…"

Ron snorted. "He's probably out in the forest again taking care of Grawp. Do you reckon he has learned some more manners, or another English word, perhaps? I'd really like to hear that."

"Grawp helped Hagrid a lot in the war, you know," Hermione said matter-of-factly. "That proves that he's much more responding now."

"Responding?" scoffed Ron.

"The last time I saw him he was with the students at Hogwarts; they were throwing food into his laughing mouth," said Ginny, absentmindedly playing with Harry's hair, making it messier than it already was.

"Sure," said Ron dryly. "Next thing you know, Grawp's taking over Hagrid's teaching post. That'd be fun."

Harry laughed but Hermione just rolled her eyes.

"Speaking of teaching," she said thoughtfully, "I wonder if Hagrid will want to continue with Care of Magical Creatures?"

"I would assume he will," said Ron. "He loved it after all. We can just ask him all these questions when we come to visit."

"Do you think we should do it today?" Hermione asked them suddenly. "I mean, we're kind of in a hurry to get the ingredients, and I'm sure it'll take some time for Hagrid to find a wild Thestral, not to mention, he needs to travel out of the country."

"First of all, will he agree to it if we ask? I mean, that's a big task and –" Ron hesitated and said with a sour face, "I wouldn't want to watch over Grawp when he's away."

"That's probably what Hagrid's gonna do," Harry pointed out. "He asked us to take care of Grawp before, remember?"

"Let's not worry about it once we talk to Hagrid. He may not even mention his brother. So," said Hermione as though they had finally reached a conclusion. "Are we agreeing, then, that we visit Hagrid today?"

"I don't see why not," said Ron quickly.

Ginny glanced worriedly at Harry and said, "No offence Harry, but do you feel you can travel?"

"I think I can," he said confidently, although he wasn't entirely sure himself. "Besides, I miss Hagrid."

But Harry was sure Ginny was not convinced when she bit her lip, and he could see Hermione looked away after giving an anxious glance with Ginny.

"As much as you want to see Hagrid, I don't think you should come, Harry," Hermione said seriously. "I can't believe that I totally forgot that you're ill."

"But I'm not," said Harry rather forcefully. He felt his heart constrict painfully at the thought of missing out on seeing Hagrid. He didn't know if he would see him again if he didn't go now. "I mean, I feel fine today," he added as an afterthought, trying his best to look convincing.

"Sorry, mate," Ron interjected. "But I think Hermione's right. It's risky, and I wouldn't want to carry you if you ever faint in one of your attacks."

Harry frowned. "But I'm not gonna have another attack. Not now, anyway. Like I said, I feel fine."

Ron snorted.

"Harry," said Ginny. "That burning feeling you had was pretty unpredictable. I've seen it before at different times. You don't think I wouldn't have picked up on that, do you? But I figured it out. You can't really keep it a secret the way you were dealing with it."

Harry refused to budge. "But I haven't seen –"

"Hagrid will understand, Harry," Hermione cut him off. She looked at his emerald green eyes with a soft expression on her face.

"He'll probably come bursting in on here once he finds out that you're sick," said Ron, trying to cheer him up even though what he said sounded awful.

Harry glared at them. He hated this, hated the helplessness he felt at not being able to do what he wanted, hated the frustration he felt of falling ill at any time. "Fine!" he snapped and he folded his arms.

"Then I won't be coming along, too," Ginny informed Ron and Hermione.

Harry looked at her with surprise, but he already knew why.

"I knew you'd say that," said Hermione.

Ron made a face at Harry and Ginny and menacingly said, "You both better not do something while we're away."

"Do what, exactly?" Ginny asked in a stern voice. "You wouldn't be here anyway, so you wouldn't know if something happened."

Ron was about to retort back, but Hermione stopped him. "Now, we have to talk about your dad." She looked at Ron and Ginny.

"What about him?" Ron asked, still in a foul mood at his sister.

"We'll wait for you to come back before we talk to him," Ginny replied to Hermione who nodded.

"Better be careful what you tell your dad," Harry said suddenly, not looking at them. "If he finds out about your plan on that potion, he might take it worse than I did."

Free from pretense, Hermione spoke, "We'll tell him the details but not all of them."

"Oh, you mean to leave out the part where you drink the potion and risk your life?" Harry asked with a look of contempt plastered on his face.

"Well… yes, that's about right," she said calmly, not wanting to argue with Harry.

"Great," said Harry sarcastically. "I can't wait to see that."

"What's wrong with you?" asked Ron with a disapproving look on his face.

Harry shrugged.

"Don't worry about him," said Ginny. "He's just upset that he's not coming to see Hagrid."

Harry glared at her. "I said I'm fine."

"You'll be able to see him soon, Harry," said Hermione consolingly, but Harry clearly doubted that.

After a minute of silence, Hermione stood up and said, "Right. We better get ready to leave, Ron." And with that, they walked out of the room, leaving Harry and Ginny behind.

* * *

An hour later, Ron and Hermione arrived in a fairly roomy office of Horace Slughorn. They had decided to Floo to his fireplace to arrive at Hogwarts quickly. They looked around and saw the usual two large sofas that greeted them. Hermione remembered all too well the number of times she spent in this room where Professor Slughorn had held his parties, but today it was empty, and even Slughorn was not there.

"Where do you reckon he's at?" asked Ron after they scanned the office for him.

"He's probably in his Potions lab, brewing," said Hermione. "Remember when Mrs. Weasley asked him for more Healing potions for Harry?"

They made their way out of the door and into the corridor, and they went six floors down and passed the Great Hall without any interruptions.

"It's weird seeing the castle so empty," said Ron. "But at least they've managed to fix most of the damage from the war."

"Of course they have," she said while rolling her eyes. "It'd be hard to study if there are a mass of boulders scattered everywhere in the classrooms."

They walked outside the Hogwarts castle where they could already make out Hagrid's hut from a distance. Once they reached his wooden door, they knocked and heard several booming barks from Fang inside.

Hagrid's big, hairy face appeared in the door crack as he pulled it open. His eyes widened in shock when he recognized who they were.

"Ron! Hermione!" he greeted happily, giving them both bone-cracking hugs. "Come in!"

"Hi, Hagrid!" said Hermione with a smile. An enormous black boarhound bounded straight to Ron and started licking his ears like always.

"What's the two o' yeh doin' here?" Hagrid asked, still looking surprised at the sudden visit. He offered them tea which they took gratefully and sat down in his overly large armchair.

"We miss you, and we thought we'd come by and visit," Hermione said brightly, hoping that Hagrid wouldn't notice that Harry was missing.

She was wrong unfortunately when Hagrid said, "Thanks, Hermione. But where's Harry? He's comin', isn't he?"

Ron and Hermione glanced at each other before she spoke.

"Uh... no, Hagrid. He's resting right now."

"Restin'?" he asked curiously.

"He's really sick." Ron managed to say.

"Sick?" Hagrid's thick brow twitched as he frowned slightly.

"Actually, he's the reason why we came, Hagrid," said Hermione, suddenly serious. "We need your help."

"I had known Harry fer years an' I knew most 'o the injuries Harry's endured in the past, but the way yer said it, Hermione, it mus' be grave... Wha' happened ter him?"

Hermione took a deep breath. "His soul is damaged."

Hagrid raised his eyebrows. "Soul? Wha' d'yeh mean it's damaged?"

"Do you remember when Voldemort killed Harry's parents when he was a baby?" she asked.

Hagrid nodded.

"Well, that night when his cursed backfired, he accidentally transferred a part of his soul to Harry, making Harry a Horcrux."

Hagrid looked puzzled at the mention of the word "Horcrux", but he didn't say anything.

"When you thought Harry was killed in the Forbidden forest the night we had the war," continued Hermione. "It was actually Voldemort killing his soul inside of Harry, that's why he's alive. But –" She paused; Hagrid was making a guttural sound as he listened to her, his eyes looking grim, but he ushered Hermione to go on.

"A Horcrux is very dark and evil. Once a Horcrux invades another soul, in which case, Harry's soul, it becomes damaged even if the Horcrux or shall I say, Voldemort's soul, was destroyed."

"And now Harry's suffering… and he's dying, Hagrid." Ron said sadly.

Hagrid was speechless for a moment. "No," was the only word he could utter. "Tha's got ter be the worst thing I ever heard in my life... and I've heard many other terrible things, but not like this... He must be hurtin' so much."

"Not all the time," said Ron. "He's had days when he's feeling alright, but lately he's been in a terrible state. He's losing his memories... and throwing up blood. You don't want to imagine, Hagrid. It's very painful to watch."

"Yes," said Hermione. "We were looking for a way to mend his soul."

"Did yer find any?" Hagrid asked quickly, looking hopeful.

"Yes," she told him. "Professor Slughorn helped us find a book that could tell us how. We have to brew a potion... but it's tricky. We need to find ingredients, and that's where you come in, Hagrid."

Hagrid raised his eyebrows. "Wha' do I need ter do?" he asked eagerly. "I would do anythin' ter help Harry."

"We need a Thestral's tail hair," said Hermione.

Hagrid made a sigh of relief. "Oh, that's easy. We have a bunch here a' Hogwarts."

Hermione shook her head. "No, Hagrid. We'll need a wild Thestral."

"Wild?" he asked, frowning.

"Yes. Do you know where to find one?"

A silence fell as Hagrid thought hard.

"I think I know where," he said after a while. "They're very rare... and yeh have ter be an experienced wizard before yeh try n' handle 'em."

"You would be able to, wouldn't you?" Ron asked for confirmation before he could stop himself.

"O' course," he said proudly. "Only it'll be a bit o' a challenge, I must say. When d'yeh need it?"

"As soon as possible," Hermione said quickly.

Hagrid nodded making note of his task. "I would want ter come n' see Harry for meself when I have the tail hair," he told them.

Hermione smiled. "He'd like that, Hagrid. He was upset that he couldn't come and talk to you."

"Well, tell him I'm comin' soon, will yeh?"

Ron and Hermione nodded. They stayed and chatted with Hagrid a few more hours before they decided to go home. They learned that he was coming back to teach Care of Magical Creatures again for the next term, and Hagrid was thrilled to find out that Hermione was coming back as well, a little less so when she declined from taking his classes for her final year.

Hagrid also mentioned his half-brother Grawp now preferred to live in the cave near Hogsmeade, rather than the forest, saying that he was happier there. Ron and Hermione were also glad to know that they didn't have to take care of Grawp once Hagrid went for a hunt of wild Thestral. They never ask the reason why and dropped the subject of Grawp hastily before Hagrid changed his mind.

Ron and Hermione went back to Slughorn's office shortly after they said their goodbyes to Hagrid. They tried to knock at the door just to see whether Slughorn was back in his office, and surprisingly, they found he was when he opened the door.

"Ms. Granger and Mr. Weasley!" he greeted. "What a surprise. Come in!"

They entered. Leather chairs with glowing lamps on each side welcomed them but they didn't sit.

"What are you both doing at Hogwarts?" Slughorn asked.

"We visited Hagrid for an ingredient written in the Anima book," said Hermione.

"Ah, I see you've managed to work out the ingredients," he nodded, praising her intelligence. "I would assume Hagrid'll get it?"

"Yes," she said curtly.

"Excellent," Slughorn said. He walked over to his table where a stack of potions vials was bundled protectively together. "I was about to go to the Burrow to bring these potions for Mr. Potter. How is he doing so far?"

"He's doing pretty well today before we left," said Hermione.

Slughorn nodded. "I am hoping it will continue. Anyway, seeing as you two are here, you wouldn't mind bringing the potions with you when you go back, would you?" he asked Ron and Hermione.

"No," Ron said with a shake of his head.

"Excellent." He gestured for Ron and Hermione to follow him into the fireplace so they could Floo back. "I expect your mother didn't need any potion while I was away. Do tell her to forgive me if it took me a while."

Ron nodded before he and Hermione disappeared into the flames.

* * *

Back at the Burrow, Ginny was helping her mother prepare for lunch while Mr. Weasley was reading the Daily Prophet when Ron and Hermione appeared in the kitchen fireplace.

"Oh, good; you're both back," said Mrs. Weasley. They realized Ginny must have already informed her of their whereabouts when Mrs. Weasley didn't ask where they had gone to.

Ron placed the stack of vials on the table. "Slughorn made me deliver these potions. Where is Harry?" he asked.

"He's upstairs," said Ginny. "He said he wanted to take a nap before coming down for lunch."

"I can put these vials in the storage if you want, Mrs. Weasley." Hermione offered.

"Thank you, dear."

Ron made his way upstairs to check on his best friend, not that he didn't trust him to be asleep, but he regarded the unpredictability of Harry's sickness as an important sign that he shouldn't be left alone. Sure enough, he heard him retching inside the bathroom when Ron reached on the first floor. He knocked, but Harry didn't answer. Ron turned the knob and was relieved that it was unlocked. He opened the door.

Harry was sitting on the floor, his head buried in the toilet, sweating profusely.

Ron hurriedly went beside him. "Harry!"

Harry wiped his mouth and looked at him weakly, a sad smile on his lips. Ron saw the dark shade of red in the toilet bowl before Harry flushed it down.

"I'm okay, Ron."

Ron closed his eyes in frustration at hearing Harry's automatic _"I'm okay"_ answer.

"Bloody hell, Harry. You are obviously not okay!" Ron cursed. He was about to go and tell his mother when Harry stopped him.

"Please, it's not that bad," he said and he stood up. "I only threw up but I feel fine now, I swear."

"But you need medical attention, Harry. You're throwing up blood!"

"I know that... but it doesn't help."

Ron knew what that meant, but he wasn't willing to accept it. "Yes, it does!" said Ron through clenched teeth. "At least temporarily. I don't know why you're being stubborn." He let out an exasperated sigh.

"I promise I will take a potion the next time I feel sick," Harry assured him.

"I swear the next time you show even just an inkling of pain in your face I would automatically force a potion down your throat whether you like it or not!" Ron said firmly at Harry as they came down for lunch.

"I promised I would, Ron," Harry said with a sigh. "So please stop nagging me."

"Harry!" Hermione greeted when she saw him in the kitchen. "How was your nap?" she asked, remembering Ginny telling them that Harry took a nap right after she and Ron left the Burrow.

Harry saw Ron give him a dark look which he ignored when he replied, "It was good."

Hermione smiled but the corners of her mouth fell slightly when she saw Ron shake his head in disapproval.

They all sat around the table after Mrs. Weasley presented the day's lunch. There were shepherd's pies, roasted chickens with a side of vegetables, and pea soups. They all looked delicious, and even Harry couldn't help his mouth from watering, but not as much as Ron who looked as though he could eat the entirety of the food on the table, his worry and anger towards Harry momentarily dissipating.

All of them had their helpings on each of their plates when Hermione told Harry the conversation she and Ron had had with Hagrid.

"And Hagrid said he'll visit you soon, Harry," she said excitedly.

Harry smiled but made no comment. He continued twirling his fork with his fingers and looking sadly at the food in front of him. He wanted to eat so badly, but he had lost his appetite again. He pretended to eat, scooping a little each time.

"Did you two go to Hogwarts earlier?" Mr. Weasley asked even though Molly had already told him. His eyes travelled from Hermione to Ron.

"Yes, Mr. Weasley," Hermione answered. "I'm sorry if we weren't able to tell you where we were going. We had to rush."

"Rush for what?" Mrs. Weasley asked.

"We've read Professor Slughorn's book, and we found a way to mend Harry's soul. We had to rush so we can start the process soon," Hermione said brightly. She glanced over at Harry who shifted in his seat. He looked away quickly.

"Oh, that's very good news!" exclaimed Mrs. Weasley, and beaming at Hermione who now smiled nervously, realizing she might have said too much.

"So what have you learned in the book?" Mr. Weasley asked curiously.

"There was stuff that we have to get," Hermione said, eyeing Ron who was looking pale and Ginny, nervous. "That's the reason why we went to Hagrid."

"What stuff are those?" Mrs. Weasley asked while she scooped a portion of the shepherd's pie.

"We need a Thestral's tail hair –"

"That's a strange thing to get. That's written in the book?" Mr. Weasley asked, "and Hagrid knows where to get it?"

"Yes," answered Hermione, her hands turning cold.

"And what else do you have to get?" he asked after he drank his water. Ron, Hermione, and Ginny looked tensely at each other. No one seemed to be eating their food now that the course of the conversation about the ingredients had started.

"Uhm… the next one is from you, Mr. Weasley," she said in a quiet voice, if somewhat hesitantly.

Mr. Weasley's head snapped up. "Me?" he asked, his eyebrows raised. "What do you need that requires my assistance?"

Hermione delayed her reply for a second. She could sense her friends' nervous gazes. "Do you know the Veil in the Department of Mysteries, Mr. Weasley?" she asked as she held her breath.

"The Veil?" repeated Mr. Weasley, his face suddenly looked grim. Mrs. Weasley watched the conversation inquisitively.

Hermione nodded. She sat in numbed silence.

After sharing a brief look with his wife, Mr. Weasley answered in a low voice, "Yes, I know it. What do you need in there?"

"It has a stone archway built around it... and we're wondering if you could get a piece of that stone?" Hermione said, looking anxious.

"And this is written in the book as well?" he asked, looking mystified.

"Yes," Hermione answered with a nod.

"Well... I would have to make arrangements to get it. It's not that easy to break inside the Department of Mysteries as I'm sure you're all aware." Mr. Weasley eyed the nervous-looking teens in front of him. "I myself won't be able to sneak inside without proper order from the Minister. The Unspeakables will never let me in."

"Do you think the Minister will give you permission, dad?" Ginny asked abruptly.

"I don't see why not. Kingsley Shacklebolt is a proud member of the Order of the Phoenix before he became the Minister for Magic. I do think he will gladly help, especially if he knows Harry needs it." Mr. Weasley spared a look at Harry's direction who bowed his head over his plate. "Would that be all you need before I contact the Minister?" he asked Hermione.

"Yes," said Hermione. "Thank you, Mr. Weasley."

Relief spread from Ron and Ginny as they began to eat again.

"I do have to ask, though..." said Mr. Weasley, the scraping sounds of the plates suddenly ceased again. "What do you plan on doing to it once you get it? How does it help Harry?"

Beads of sweat started forming in Hermione's forehead. Ron and Ginny watched her with bated breath, even Harry looked up from his plate.

"We – we make a potion out of it," she answered with a quivering voice.

"Ah," said Mr. Weasley, a look of dawning in his eyes.

 _Does Mr. Weasley know what would happen next?_ Harry thought.

Looking highly sympathetically in Harry's direction, he said, "I hope this potion tastes good before you drink it, Harry. Tail hair and a bit of stone doesn't sound appetizing to me."

Hermione, Ron, and Ginny gave forced laughs. They were relieved to know that the conversation was finally over. Harry, on the other hand, only made a small smile and didn't say anything until the end of their lunch.

* * *

Harry sat in one of the chairs in the living room right after. Ginny was helping her mother clean while Ron went upstairs. The conversation that had taken place earlier was making Harry dizzy. He was somewhat relieved that it ended well without causing any trouble, though he still felt uncomfortable letting his friends do most of the mending of his soul. He felt useless and, at the same time, he felt ashamed. He thought he should be the one doing all the work, and yet here he was, waiting for his friends to start the process. He was about to close his eyes when Hermione joined him.

"You're a smooth talker," Harry told her once she settled on the sofa right next to him. He arched his eyebrows in a stately manner. "With that, I highly praise you, Hermione."

"Oh, shut up, Harry!" said Hermione, red in the face. "You have no idea how nervous I was. I really thought I would mess it up. And thanks for not helping, by the way," she sarcastically said to Harry.

"You're very welcome. What are friends for, right?" he mocked, smiling at her.

She mildly punched his arm. "You should help me sometime. I bet you won't last a second."

"That's why I leave it to you," said Harry, rubbing his arm. "Because I won't last a second."

Hermione rolled her eyes.

Silence hung in the air between them for a few minutes before Harry decided to break it.

"Hermione?"

"Yes?"

"Does it say in the book that it requires three people before making an attempt to mend a soul?" he asked, looking serious.

Hermione frowned and bit her lip, thinking. "I actually don't know, Harry," she said truthfully. "We still haven't totally read the instructions. Ron, Ginny, and I only decided that we'll help regardless of who will attempt." She paused. "Do you hate us for doing that?"

"No," he said. "You guys have done enough for me and I'm grateful... I'm just overwhelmed how willing you guys are to put your life at stake just to help me mend my soul -" Harry stopped. He drew a deep breath and went on again with a sinking feeling. "I have already accepted my fate that, even from the time my parents were killed, I wasn't really supposed to live... but I did. After all that I've been through... and after the war... I thought I had the chance to finally breathe, only for it to be snatched away from me again. I don't know what my fate is telling me, but I'm tired of dealing with something that I know isn't meant for me, Hermione. I just want it to end."

Hermione considered his words. "Harry, I know you are longing to break free... I could see and feel your struggles every day as though life is taunting you and, at the same time, the pain of still being bound. I am not saying that you deserve it, no... of course not, but you were given this life because you're strong enough to live it, Harry. No matter how you look at it, some things just don't make sense, but we believe in you the way you believe in us. Don't take that for granted. Hold on to your life for as long as you can. Don't give up on us, Harry, because we're not giving up on you. And –" she hesitated.

"And what?" Harry asked curiously.

"I still want to see you and Ginny get married one day and have kids," she said, her cheeks flushed. "Don't you want to have a family?"

"Why do you have to bring that up right now, Hermione?" he asked, looking exasperated. He averted his eyes from her, but Hermione saw him blush slightly.

"You don't want to miss that chance, is all I'm saying," she defended.

"I know," he muttered. "Thanks, Hermione."

"Sure. What are friends for, right?"

Harry smiled smugly.

Hermione made to get up from her seat. "Well, I'll leave you to rest. I think I interrupted you a moment ago."

"No, it's alright," he said hastily but Hermione got up and went upstairs after giving him a gentle squeeze of the hand.

**To be continued...**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To those who have read this chapter, I hope you enjoyed it. Thank you for all the wonderful reviews, as well as those who gave Kudos, subscribed and bookmarked. It was always inspiring and encouraging to continue writing. Once again, thank you for supporting this story!
> 
> My one-shot Draco Malfoy story called "Troubled Mind" is now posted. Do check it out!
> 
> Beta-read by KVeronicaP


	10. Chapter 10

Ron was spreadeagled on his bed in his room when he heard a knock. He opened his door and upon seeing Hermione, he let her in and settled himself back in his bed.

"When you and Harry came downstairs earlier at lunch, the look you gave me earlier meant that Harry was hiding something, wasn't he?" she asked while sitting on a chair across from him. "

"Yeah... he was lying about his health again," he informed her. "Afterward, I was going to check on him when Ginny told me that Harry was taking a nap. I heard him throwing up again in the bathroom, so I was going to tell mum and get a potion, but he stopped me. He doesn't even want to take the healing potions."

Hermione frowned. "What do you mean 'he doesn't want'? Of course he would."

"I mean, you'd think so, right? Well... Harry said that the potions don't help, but he did promise he'd take some when he gets sick again. I don't know whether to believe him or not."

Hermione lowered her head and didn't say anything.

"Do you know why he's acting this way?" he asked with concern. "It's so weird that he suddenly doesn't want to take them anymore. There must be something else going on, I take it?"

Hermione fidgeted with a stray lock of hair, biting her lip. "... He said he wanted his life to end."

"He what?!" Ron wasn't expecting Hermione's words to be so extreme. "He can't be _serious_!" He visibly shook his head when he added, "Harry shouldn't dwell on it. We have to think of a solution to get his spirits up."

"I know. I don't think he knows how important his life is." Hermione looked miserable when she said it.

Ron leaned back on his bed, dumbfounded. Both he and Hermione were silent for a minute before Ron piped up, "I think he needs a distraction from all the things that have been happening to him," Ron suggested. "I bloody-well would take one myself if given the chance." His eyes suddenly brightened with an idea.

"What kind of distraction are you suggesting?"

Ron looked unbelievably at her. "Come on now, Hermione. You know what Harry liked to do best. You've been his best friend for how long?"

"How would I know what he liked best?" retorted Hermione. "You're the ones with him all the time!"

"Isn't it obvious?" he asked incredulously. "I am beginning to question your friendship with Harry, Hermione. How can you not know?"

"What is it?" she asked, irritation etched in her creased brow.

"Quidditch!" Ron exclaimed loudly. "That's what he needs."

"Quidditch," Hermione repeated, looking appraisingly at him. "That's your distraction?"

"Yes," he said confidently. "It'll help him, I swear."

Hermione considered this for a moment. "I don't know if that's the right thing to do, Ron. When would you plan on playing?"

"Right now," he said simply.

"Now?" Hermione looked at him, unwilling to believe what Ron had said. "You're kidding, right? Harry threw up in the bathroom before lunch, and you want him to play Quidditch now?"

"Yeah… but he at least looks better than several days ago," Ron reasoned. "I know this is a stupid idea -"

"Very stupid, Ron!" Hermione exclaimed fiercely.

"Trust me, Hermione. Harry will want to play. It would take his mind off things for a bit."

"And how, may I ask, do you propose to play Quidditch with only the two of you, no goal hoops, and Quaffle, and Harry being sick?" asked Hermione sharply, her hand on her waist.

"Did I say we're the only ones playing?" Ron asked, but he quickly continued when Hermione raised her eyebrows. "You're playing with us and Ginny as well... and I can just transform something to look like a Quaffle, no biggie."

Hermione thought fast. "There are so many things that could go wrong with Harry. Besides, I'm not good at Quidditch... and you know I hate flying on a broomstick! I'd like to help Harry, too, but -" She sighed. She wouldn't want to hurt Harry. Looking dubious, she complied. "Fine, I'll play."

"Oh, I can't wait to tell Harry," Ron said excitedly. "This is gonna be fun!"

Hermione cast him a threatening look. "If something happens to Harry, I swear I'll do more than hex you."

"Relax, you lunatic," he said with a smirk that earned him a smack in the head with his pillow. "I'm gonna make sure nothing happens to him, of course. We haven't asked him yet. He might say no, but I doubt that, knowing him."

* * *

Ron found Harry sleeping in the living room. Sitting across him was Ginny who was busy reading the _Daily Prophet_ with a frown on her face.

"Any good news?" he asked.

"Not really," she said, not looking up from her reading. "Some people are demanding to see Harry in public and other similar nonsense."

Ron gestured at Harry's sleeping form. "How is he?"

"Doing well I think," said Ginny hopefully.

"Hey, Harry!" Ron nudged Harry suddenly.

Ginny grabbed his arm, looking alarmed. "What are you doing?"

But Harry had already stirred. He opened his eyes, and they focused on Ron and Ginny.

"Are you alright, mate?" Ron asked.

Harry nodded and looked around groggily. "Did something happen?"

"No. You can go back to sleep." Ginny told him. "Ron just happened to be a jerk and woke you up for no reason."

"What are you talking about?" Ron retorted. "I woke Harry so we can play Quidditch." He offered his hand for Harry to grab so he could get up, but Harry merely looked at him with confused eyes.

"I don't think so, Ron," Ginny said sternly, swatting Ron's hand away and giving him a dark look. "Are you insane? Harry's not fit to play right now."

"He just had his rest," he reasoned. "And it's Quidditch. You can't pass up the game when offered. Besides, we'd only be playing with a Quaffle, so it's not gonna be that bad."

Ginny looked at him as though he had gone crazy. "Did you hit your head or something? I said –"

"I can play," muttered Harry. Ron beamed while Ginny did a double take. "I haven't flown for months, anyway. But I don't have a broom, though. I lost my Firebolt when we left Privet Drive."

"We have spare brooms," said Ron eagerly. "You can use one of those."

"Okay," said Harry, straightening up. "Let me get changed. I'll be right back." He stood and went upstairs with a spring in his step that Ron hadn't seen in a while.

Ginny was looking daggers at his brother. "You know Harry's sick, Ron. You are gonna be in so much trouble if –"

"He looked willing to go, so why not?"

"You know what I mean," said Ginny in a deadly whisper.

"He needs it, and besides, when's the last time you've seen him so happy? Especially since he wants his life to end," he blurted without pausing to think.

Ginny blanched. "Harry will never say that!"

Ron's grin slid from his face, realizing what he'd said. "He told Hermione after lunch," he said sadly in a low voice. Ginny gaped at him, but the determination in his eyes returned. "That's why I'm doing this, Ginny. Yes, it might not be the best time, but when's a good time to do it, then? We need to keep his mind off his sickness," He swallowed, remembering what Hermione had said, "or else he'll succumb to depression. You can jinx me all you like after the game, but Harry's gotta do _something_."

They looked up when Harry and Hermione came downstairs at the same time. Harry was looking excited, but Hermione and Ginny cast Ron a "this-is-still-a-bad-idea-but-since-Harry-looks-happy-we'll-play-even-if-we're-not-in-the-mood" look when they met him at the door that led outside to the backyard.

Harry was beaming by the time he set foot outside. He could see goal posts standing on either end of the made-up Quidditch field on which he hadn't played on for so long, He realized that he had been stuck inside the house for too long.

The hot afternoon sun blazed down on them when they walked across the field. Each of them had their brooms in hand. Ron held a Quaffle that he'd transfigured earlier. He stood firmly on the ground and faced his friends.

He cleared his throat. "Okay, players. There's four of us... and to make this a fair game - I think I'll pick Ginny for my team."

Hermione frowned, seeing a flaw on the plan already. "How is that fair? You both are good at Quidditch."

Ron smirked. "Don't forget you have Harry, Hermione. He's really good. Trust me, we're gonna lose."

Ginny raised her eyebrows at Ron. "Why am I even paired with you?" she asked with disdain. "I am ready for a challenge, and you're already expecting us to lose. What a good way to boost our confidence, Ronald." She tossed her hair. "I'm not gonna let Harry win this game." Harry smiled at her confidence.

"Are you sure about that, Ms. Weasley?" Harry challenged her.

"You better not start with me, Potter!" Ginny replied back with a fierce look. "I may be your girlfriend but you don't know who you're dealing with."

"Is that a threat?" Harry asked with a wild look.

"Why? _Are_ you threatened?"

Ron and Hermione were grinning at both of them, glad to see Harry actually regaining a bit of his old self.

"Okay, players!" Ron's call brought Harry and Ginny's attention to him before they violated the rules. "The first team who shoots twenty Quaffles into the goal hoops wins the game. Now, let's play!"

Hermione looked worried. "Twenty? It'll last us until midnight," she protested. Harry snickered when she looked like she wanted to disappear.

"We won't, Hermione," Harry assured her. "Besides, you're with me."

"I know that, Harry. It's just... Are you sure you can play right now? Because you're looking pale -"

"I'm fine. Don't worry about me," Harry said quickly, suppressing the nagging feeling in his conscience telling him the same. He told himself that Hermione was only making up excuses so she wouldn't have to play.

"I've had my sleep earlier. I'm well-rested." But truthfully, Harry hadn't had a good rest at all. When he'd told Ginny that he would be taking a nap, he'd only slept for a few minutes before he was awoken by a pounding headache. He'd attempted to sleep again multiple times, but a wave of nausea had hit him next, and that was when Ron found him throwing up in the bathroom. Harry had only just managed to sleep again in the living room when Ron woke him up to play Quidditch. Quite stubbornly, he didn't want to pass up this one chance even if he was feeling sick. He'd deal with it later.

Harry took off without waiting for Hermione, but he could see that Hermione still looked unsure even when he flew up in the air and started playing.

As he rose into the air, Harry felt the soothing air brush his face. He could smell the wonderful summer scent. He'd missed flying so much. Harry felt much more alive, happy, and free when he was in a broomstick. It was a medicine that was giving him comfort and strength that no other antidote could provide. He never wanted the moment to end but instead keep flying and not care about anything else.

The game started right after Ron tossed the Quaffle in the air. Despite being sick, Harry was the one keeping an eye out to Hermione. She kept saying that she was bad in Quidditch, but her efforts suggested otherwise. On several occasions, he just managed to grab the Quaffle from Ron even though she did only just fail to shoot it through the goal hoops. Ginny was fast at blocking her, and Harry could hear Hermione cursing for not being quicker than her and that she hoped to Merlin that the game would end soon.

Harry and Ginny zoomed past each other, playing expertly. Ron made an effort as well and dived at once to block Harry's attempt to shoot the Quaffle, but he missed it by inches. Ginny caught it, and Hermione tailed behind her as fast as she could to get the Quaffle away from her hands. Her attempt was feeble, and Ginny swerved, almost making Hermione lose her balance because she halted so quickly.

Harry sped towards Ginny and blocked her direction. She tossed the Quaffle to Ron who caught it. With a force that almost took his breath away, Harry sped and bumped Ron accidentally, making him lose his grip on the Quaffle and it fell right in front of Hermione who grabbed it and shot it in one of the hoops as quickly as she could. That earned her both a score and a clap from Harry.

The game was growing intense as the afternoon turned to dusk. Ginny was spectacular at aiming the Quaffle right through the goal hoops, as well as Harry who had been shooting Quaffles multiple times in the goal posts even without much effort, making Ron miserable at blocking them.

Most of the scores were made by Harry and Ginny. Ron and Hermione even managed to score a few, and it was already down to a tie. One more shot remained to fulfil the goal of twenty, and the increasing exertion took its toll on Harry when he almost lost his balance. To Harry's relief, none of his friends noticed. He wanted to end the game without problems so badly.

 _Just one more shot,_ Harry reassured his exhausted mind. He zoomed close toward the goal hoop when Ginny sped up beside him. She managed to grab the Quaffle from his hand, doubling back to shoot it straight toward the opposite post. Hermione squeaked her surprise and dove to block it too late, and it sailed right through the goal hoop.

Ginny and Ron screamed in triumph when they landed on the ground.

"That was a great game!" Ron said to Harry and Hermione when they landed behind him. Notwithstanding his fatigue, Harry found Ron's joy contagious. "I can't believe we won!"

"I told you I won't let Harry win," Ginny reminded his brother, grinning proudly in front of Harry.

"Yeah... you were amazing!" Harry said happily to her despite his look of exhaustion. It still hadn't sunk in to him that he flew on a broomstick and played Quidditch. It would also be a lot more enjoyable if Fred and George were there as well like old times, but he knew he could only bring back those happy and carefree days with them in his memories.

He placed his arm around Ron's shoulder as the two of them trudged back to the Burrow and said in a sincere voice, "Thanks for making me play Quidditch again, Ron."

Ron smiled at him. "Don't mention it."

"Congratulations, too. Good thing you picked Ginny on your side or else you would've really lost." That made Ron elbow Harry on his side as they went inside the house.

Hermione was very relieved that the game had ended. She apologized to Harry for losing the game, but he shrugged it off and gave her a pat on the back instead for playing well and being a good sport.

Harry's good spirits carried all the way to dinner that night, but he also noticed that his energy declined drastically as the time went by. The game took most of his strength, and with the way he felt at that moment, he was surprised that he didn't collapse. Harry did himself a favour and decided to eat as much as he could to gain back at least a bit of his energy.

"That was a wicked turn you did back there, Ginny!" Ron praised, he still couldn't get over their triumph on the game, and he kept talking animatedly to anyone who would listen to the details. Ginny had already found it rather annoying.

Mrs. Weasley was flabbergasted when she found out that Harry agreed to Ron's idea and played Quidditch. She immediately set about lecturing to her son about how much danger he'd put Harry in, knowing that he was ill. "I can't believe how tactless you are, Ronald Weasley! You know he can't just –"

"But he's fine, mum!" Ron tried to explain, his cheerfulness gone. "Nothing happened to him - Harry, please say something to her," he pleaded for Harry to save him, but Harry knew that Mrs. Weasley wouldn't have it.

"Well, you best hope I don't hide those broomsticks, Ronald!" his mother snapped.

"Mrs. Weasley, Ron was only trying to –" Harry tried to reason out but was cut off.

"I will not tolerate it, Harry," Mrs. Weasley said firmly. "And you, of all people, should know better how risky and dangerous it is for your health. I am very disappointed in you. You went ahead and jeopardized everything we've done to keep you safe!" Her face was as red as her hair. "From now on, you are not going to be playing Quidditch until you get your health back to normal."

Ron could see the pained expression on Harry's face when his mother scolded him, and he spoke up quickly in his defence.

"That's not fair! You can't do that to Harry. He didn't do anything wrong. It was my fault!" Ron snapped at her. Harry could only stare at his best friend.

"Then that makes the two of you!" she said furiously at Ron who lowered his head and sulked at his food.

Only the sound of the utensils hitting the plate could be heard as dinner continued. Harry found it hard to concentrate on his food after being scolded by Mrs. Weasley. He tried to take a few bites, but he had already lost his appetite. Silently fuming, Ron resorted to stabbing his baked potato endlessly.

The silence was broken only when Mr. Weasley arrived home.

"I could only manage to send in a special note to Kingsley regarding the stone, Harry," Mr. Weasley informed Harry immediately as he sat down beside him. "He was in and out of the office and always surrounded with people."

"Thank you, Mr. Weasley," Harry muttered solemnly. Still feeling guilty about the Quidditch match, he could only utter his thanks and nothing else. He wouldn't want to disappoint Mr. Weasley either, so he kept his head down and stayed silent.

"I ran into Teddy Lupin at the Ministry!" Mr. Weasley announced cheerfully. "He was with his grandmother."

"That's Remus and Tonks' son, isn't it?" asked Mrs. Weasley, beaming up at him and suddenly forgetting what had happened a few minutes ago.

"That's right. And I believe he's your godson, Harry?"

Harry turned his head up and curtly nodded. Remus Lupin so kindly had asked him a month before the battle at Hogwarts if he wanted to be Teddy's godfather. Teddy should have been a bundle of joy and hope for Remus and Tonks before they were tragically killed at the war, and their passing had brought Harry so much grief. He hadn't had the opportunity to see Teddy yet, and could only guess what the infant would be like for the time being.

"How is he?" Harry asked Mr. Weasley who promptly gave him a wide smile.

"For a month old, the little tyke can already change his appearance at will," he announced happily to everyone at the table.

"He's a Metamorphmagus?" Hermione asked, thrilled by the news.

"Yes, and," said Mr. Weasley. "It's a good thing that he didn't inherit his father's lycanthropy. Andromeda just told me."

"Oh, that's wonderful!" Mrs. Weasley squealed with delight.

Harry couldn't help but smile at the good news. He remembered well how much Remus regretted marrying Tonks and fathering a child he feared would be a werewolf like himself and facing discrimination like he had.

"You should plan a visit, Harry," Mr. Weasley encouraged him. "I'm sure Teddy would want to see his godfather."

"I'd like to, Mr. Weasley," said Harry. "It's just – I can't right now… with me being sick." Harry lowered his head. The guilt and shame had returned to haunt him again. Ginny squeezed his hand from under the table.

Mr. Weasley gently put his hand in his shoulder. "We can work it out," he said comfortingly. "I'm sure Andromeda wouldn't mind coming over here with Teddy so you could meet him."

Harry smiled genuinely. He felt a little better. "That'd be nice. Thank you."

"Who does he look like?" Ron suddenly asked his dad.

"It was hard to tell when I first saw him," he said thoughtfully. "Like I said, he kept changing his appearance. But Andromeda mentioned he'd had black hair the hour he was born."

Since Remus was hazel-haired, Harry imagined an image of Tonks with black hair. It was strange since her hair colour was always strikingly different each time he'd seen her.

"I'm sure he'll do great things just like his parents," said Mr. Weasley before bringing the cup to his lips to drink his remaining water. "He may have lost them at such an early age, but he's got loving families that will help him cope and grow up."

Everyone couldn't agree more, most especially Harry who grew up with the same situation, only he wasn't raised by a loving family who wanted him for who he was. He was determined to show Teddy the love and care like how the Weasley family did to him, as well as his future kids if his fate to live longer would permit it.

Harry could feel his blood draining and face paling when he stood up to put his empty plate to the sink. He gripped the edge of the counter when his vision swam dangerously. He suddenly felt hot and feared that his fever was back again. Since the match, Harry knew his exhaustion had peaked. He tried to take deep breaths, wishing for it to stop so as not to cause panic to the Weasleys who had yet to finish their meals.

Barely seeing where he was going, he turned around and tried to walk steadily from the kitchen and into his room. He managed to reach his bed before his knees gave up and he collapsed.

* * *

Harry's sickness persisted over the next few days. As much as he had wanted to keep it hidden from the Weasley family, his attempts were unsuccessful. He managed for a day to act as though everything was normal. No one seemed aware that he fainted right in his bed, it only looked as though he was asleep. He didn't want to blame Ron or the Quidditch game that they had that day for getting him sick again. He'd already blown it off, and Mrs. Weasley had already scolded him for what he'd done. That was enough for him to deal with.

He stayed in his room most of the time so he could get away from all of them and most especially Mrs. Weasley. Harry told everyone that he wanted to rest, asking not to be disturbed. Ron totally understood his need to rest because he'd dragged him along for a game of Quidditch, and he left him alone.

From inside the room, however, Harry could hear Ron trying to get away from Hermione and Ginny, for they were relentlessly complaining loudly every time for not being able to see Harry whenever they come and visit.

"It's only for this day," Ron defended himself. "Leave him alone and let him rest. It's not like he's dying. He only wanted to stay in bed and get his energy back. That's all it is. Isn't that what you guys wanted him to do in the first place?"

But Ron's defence wasn't what Harry had hoped it would be. He began suffering under a high fever. His vision wouldn't cooperate with him as well and he kept getting dizzy whenever he tried to stand. Not wanting his friends to see him in his sickly state again, he locked himself inside his room, and decided to let sleep wash over him. Harry hoped that the next time he woke up, he would be feeling better.

* * *

The next day, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny sat uncomfortably in the sofa of the living room discussing Hagrid's whereabouts. They had a faraway look on their faces as they dwelled on Hagrid's attempts to find a wild Thestral. It had been two days since Ron and Hermione's visit to Hagrid, and they received no mail whatsoever from him as of yet. Their growing worry became overwhelming when they thought about how impossible of a task it might be for Hagrid.

"But there's got to be a wild Thestral somewhere," said Hermione, expressing her annoyance. Her hair had gotten bushier than ever in the humid air. "I know they're rare, but they can't just disappear."

"Hagrid will find one," said Ron, comforting her with assurance. "He can see them, unlike most people. We just have to wait a little longer, I guess."

But waiting had become unbearable as well, added to the fact that Harry hadn't come out of his room for a day now, and it was already the next day. After conferring, they resolved to check in on him in his room and see for themselves if Harry truly was resting.

The three of them walked upstairs, determined. Ginny turned the knob of Harry's door only to find it locked.

"Why would he lock his door?" asked Ginny while looking oddly at the other two. "He never does."

"And what's the point of locking it if we could cast a spell to unlock it?" Ron frowned as he said it.

"I'm sure something's wrong and that he's hiding it again," Hermione concluded. She grabbed her wand in her pocket, pointed it in the doorknob and said, "Alohomora." The knob made a soft click, and Hermione made a grab for it and opened the door.

Harry's room looked orderly, as though he hadn't moved any of his things around. The smell of summer flowed through his opened window, masking the scent of a faint metallic smell that wafted in their direction as they got closer.

Ginny gasped when she finally laid her eyes on Harry. His pillow was drenched with his blood. His eyes were tightly shut as though he were in pain, but he made no move to open them when Ginny touched his face.

She looked at Ron and Hermione. "He's burning up. Ron, please run downstairs and get me a Fever-Reducing potion, tell mum as well. He's very sick again."

Ron nodded and dashed out of the room.

Hermione muttered a cleaning spell to get rid of the blood in Harry's pillow.

"Harry?" Ginny tried calling his name, but he didn't seem to want to respond and only kept his eyes shut as he moaned.

"I knew something's wrong with Harry," Hermione suddenly said to Ginny. "I mean, why else would he want to be left alone for a whole day?" she looked at him and said in an exasperated tone. "Oh, Harry… why do you keep hiding things from us?"

At that moment, Ron came back with potions in hand; Mrs. Weasley was right behind him.

"Oh, Merlin!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed in fright when he saw Harry's sick state, blood still trickling down his nose. Ginny scooted over a little bit when her mother sat in front of Harry. Mrs. Weasley cast a disapproving look at Ron and said, "I told you this was going to happen, didn't I?"

Ron could only look at her apologetically before lowering his head. She grabbed the vial from him and turned her attention to Harry.

"Harry?" she said softly. When Harry made no move that he had heard her, she called again but this time, more firmly. "Harry! Open your eyes."

A moan escaped his lips, and he slowly opened his eyes to see the blurry figure of Mrs. Weasley. He winced at the sudden light and at the pain from his pounding headache.

"Mrs. Wea –"

"Shhh… it's okay," she cut him off. "Don't talk, dear." She presented the fever potion in front of him. Harry frowned at it at first before taking it. His hands shook so badly that Ron volunteered to hold the vial for him. Harry looked embarrassed when he drank the potion. He slid back in his pillow and closed his eyes again, wincing.

"Harry, what else hurts?" Molly asked worriedly.

He gestured at his forehead. Molly understood the gesture, but before she could hand him the Healing potion that she brought with her, Harry's eyes watered, and he said in a whisper while pointing at his skin, "... hurts… burn…"

The teens looked at each other. The burn wasn't as intense as the last time, but they could see his tears coming out.

"I can only give you a healing potion, dear," Mrs. Weasley said sadly. "It'll help with your headache, but the burn… I can only hope will cease even if it's just a bit. Here –"

Ron held it up to his lips when Harry opened his eyes again. When he was done, Harry turned on his other side, his back facing them, still moaning in pain.

**To be continued...**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter. Reviews are welcome. To those who gave me Kudos and clicked the subscribe/bookmark button, thank you so much! You lift my spirit :)
> 
> My one-shot Draco Malfoy story called "Troubled Mind" is now posted. Do check it out!
> 
> Beta-read by KVeronicaP


	11. Chapter 11

The war brought so much uproar and ruckus at the Ministry because they had been breached by Death Eaters. In the aftermath, Kingsley had acted at once as the Minister for Magic and had gained control over the situation. Since then, both his efforts and the course of action to eradicate the supporters of You-Know-Who had been exemplary and outstanding and continued to do so long afterwards. He had been sending out Aurors day and night to track Death Eaters down and working tirelessly to bring the peace back that the Wizarding World had wanted for so long.

Inside the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office, Arthur shuffled his feet while he sat down in his chair. He kept looking at the time, and his growing impatience showed on his face as he continued his work. He had finally received a response from Kingsley about the request he sent a few days ago. Arthur had been told that he would be coming to visit his office right after the interrogations Kingsley had been conducting in one of the smallest courtrooms.

Arthur stood up and paced in his office. He brought his hand over to his chin, thinking, _I wonder who he's interrogating right now that's taking him so long?_ He wanted to talk to Kingsley immediately, and he couldn't wait for him any longer. Harry's health had gotten worse and they needed to act fast. Upon considering his initiatives, he strode out of his office to go to Kingsley's office.

He was greeted by a bunch of people blocking the way in front of the Minister's office. He cursed and made his way to one of the courtrooms to check whether Kingsley was there. The hallway that went from the lifts to the courtrooms had suddenly become eerie and cold because of it being underground. A few Aurors stood guard, so Arthur quickened his paced a little until he reached a door to his left. He was about to knock when the door opened, and Kingsley stepped out looking both tired and irritated. Before the door closed behind him, Arthur momentarily saw a flash of the silver hair of Lucius Malfoy and his family.

"Kingsley," Arthur greeted wearily, dipping his head.

Kingsley nodded back and said in his deep voice, "I'm terribly sorry if it had taken me a long time to get back to you, Arthur. I only just finished interrogating Lucius Malfoy."

"Apology accepted, but nothing to worry," Arthur chuckled. His low whisper took on a serious note, "Finally got Lucius Malfoy to talk?"

"Yes," Kingsley told Arthur and moving farther away from the door. "He says he wants to join forces with our side."

Arthur snorted. "He's probably bluffing. Wouldn't be the first time he'd done it. He didn't want to go back to Azkaban again."

"Exactly my thoughts as well," said Kingsley. "But by the way he said it, I could tell he was really telling the truth."

"He wants to get away, that's all he's after. And bluffing it out is his sure way to go. We all know he's a good liar since he deceived Fudge so many times."

"Well, I'd like to see him try it on me. It would only take him a few seconds to realize bluffs are useless, and he'd be promptly packed off to prison for it." Kingsley's expression grew thoughtful. "But it would be a great advantage if we have Purebloods with big names like 'Malfoy' working for us."

"It's hard to see that happening... but what are his plans since he wants to switch sides? Did he say?" Arthur asked with a curious gaze.

"He said he's willing to give out names of all the Death Eaters and help in tracking them in exchange for his name and his family to be cleared of all charges."

Arthur snorted again. "Well, that sounds like a well-rehearsed excuse. At any rate... We've heard them a million times!" he said in an exasperated tone. "Some of them helped us greatly, but most didn't, so what made his excuse an exception?"

Kingsley smirked. "I simply threatened him. I said I would make his family more infamous in the Daily Prophet early the next day if he chooses to lie, and –" he cleared his throat before continuing, "put all his wealth to the Ministry. That put him in his place, I tell you. I saw his face turn pale when I said it. He wouldn't want 'adoring fans' on his doorstep now and not a single knut in his pocket, would he?"

Arthur couldn't help but laugh at the idea.

"It wouldn't be long now before we have all the Death Eaters in Azkaban," Kingsley said excitedly.

"Well, don't get too excited yet," said Arthur. "I'm sure Lucius will take his precious time, but it won't matter. We still have other pressing matters to discuss."

The door from one of the courtrooms opened and the Malfoy family came out followed by two Aurors. Lucius and Narcissa were in deep conversation and talking in whispers, their son behind them. They were being detained for the time being at the Ministry until the investigations had concluded, while Draco would be put under a tracking spell and undergo a series of disciplinary hearings.

Kingsley's face suddenly turned serious when he saw them, but he turned his attention back to Arthur. "Potter," he whispered. "How is he?".

Arthur shifted uncomfortably. "He's hanging in there," he replied in a solemn voice. "He's still very sick."

Draco glanced up at them.

"I found it rather odd when I read your note," said Kingsley. "You said you needed a piece of the stone from the Veil?"

"I hope it won't be too hard a substance to get?"

"Oh, I'm sure it is... but I'll have the Unspeakables acquire it as soon as possible. But how is the stone going to help Harry?"

"His friends are going to be brewing a potion... and that stone is one of the ingredients," Arthur told him. "I don't know how that's gonna work. It's pretty gross if you ask me."

Kingsley grimaced, "And Harry needs to drink that?"

"I suppose so."

They stood silent for a moment until they saw the Aurors escort the Malfoy family past them. Draco gave them both a lingering look as he tailed behind his parents.

Arthur raised his eyebrows at the boy.

Kingsley asked Arthur the moment the Malfoys disappeared around a corner. "To ensure his privacy, I would want to personally hand the stone to Harry once we get it. Is he well enough?"

"I'm sure it's fine. He trusts you in the Order anyway," and Arthur added swiftly, "he looks up to you as a former Auror. I believe he wants to be one as well."

Kingsley smiled. "Well, I look forward to seeing him at the Auror's Headquarters soon. He's got more skills than most of the Aurors we have. He could probably be the next Head of the Aurors, even at such a young age, wouldn't you agree?"

"I'm sure he'd be flattered and take that as a compliment. Even I can't wait to see what he can do for the wizarding world."

Kingsley's eyes brightened when a sudden idea crossed his mind. "I wouldn't be surprised if he one day became a minister."

Arthur laughed. "I don't think Harry would want that. He despises fame and popularity. He wouldn't want to draw more attention to himself. But I have to say, that's a good possibility."

Kingsley chuckled. "I won't jump on to that conclusion just yet, then."

* * *

Mr. Weasley was about to go home later that afternoon. On his way back to his office, he noticed Draco Malfoy standing outside. The boy was thin, with dark shadows under his eyes and a greyish tinge to his skin. He looked somewhat reluctant to show himself to where he was standing, but he looked up and saw Mr. Weasley staring at him warily.

"Do you need help finding your way out of the Ministry?" asked Mr. Weasley.

"No," muttered Draco.

Mr. Weasley opened the door to his office. Draco's eyes immediately scanned the Muggle-made objects that covered most of the small space. Mr. Weasley had an inkling feeling that he was being silently judged by the way Draco looked at his office.

Mr. Weasley sighed. "Well, you have to speak up, then. My work is done, and I have to get home."

"Is it true that Potter's sick?" Draco finally blurted out.

Mr. Weasley stopped moving and glared at him. "Had you been eavesdropping earlier outside in the courtrooms?"

"I wouldn't have known if you weren't saying his name so loudly, would I?" Draco retorted bluntly.

"Must be nice to eavesdrop." Mr. Weasley shot back. "I should say I'm not surprised." He didn't like talking to a kid like this, but knowing that he was a Malfoy and that they had done so many things to support the dark side were somewhat difficult to ignore.

"I'd only like to know if he is," he said coolly. "Because it's very unlikely for a Potter to get sick, given the fact that he's always up for some trouble."

"Well, it's none of your business, so you may very well leave."

"It is now," Draco said coldly. "I want to see him in person."

"Didn't you hear what I just said, kid?" Mr. Weasley asked, his temper quickly rising.

Draco made no move. He stood firmly in the middle of Mr. Weasley's doorway to block him from going out.

"I owe him," he muttered regretfully. He made eye contact with Mr. Weasley as though to let him know that he was telling the truth.

"And I should believe you because…?"

"He saved my life... and I am only asking in return to that favour and nothing else," Draco set his jaw and narrowed his eyes, putting his best effort to look as though it were a matter that no one could deter him from.

Mr. Weasley contemplated the sincerity of his words. Bringing him to the Burrow was far too risky and both their families would surely not take it well, but if the Malfoy boy really did need to pay off a life-debt then he had no choice but to let him talk to Harry because at that moment he was deathly sick.

"I will let you see Harry but under one condition," he said firmly. "Regardless of what you see or hear, you will not talk about this to anyone. I shall know if you did. Is that clear?"

"And if I did tell, what, then?" he challenged.

Mr. Weasley smirked. "Well, let's just say... your family would be placed under heavier suspicion _and_ all your privileges will be suspended."

Draco merely gave him a noncommittal look and stepped aside to let him through to the Atrium.

* * *

Mr. Weasley appeared in the kitchen fireplace at the Burrow that afternoon. He immediately saw Ron, Ginny, and Hermione huddled quietly together around the table with distress written on each of their faces. Mr. Weasley had recognized what was happening by those looks, even without asking. He knew Harry was having a difficult time again. Before his children could even say a word of greeting at his arrival and before he could think whether the timing was right for a talk, another person arrived right behind him.

Ron stood up abruptly, his eyes scanning the face of Draco Malfoy with intense hatred, while Hermione and Ginny gaped at him with a little hint of annoyance on their faces.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Ron asked in a deadly tone. Malfoy raised his eyebrows at him, but before he or anyone else could utter another tense word, a faint scream was heard. All of them looked up at the ceiling.

"What was that?" Malfoy asked, his eyebrows furrowed. "Is there some kind of torture going on in here?"

Ron scowled and looked daggers at him. "What do you think you're doing here, Malfoy?" he asked again.

Mr. Weasley walked toward Ron and said, "Son, sit back down. Draco's here to talk to Harry."

"But he's not welcome here, dad!" said Ron fiercely while sending another dark look at Malfoy. "And besides, Harry's not in a good state to talk to anyone right now."

"Is he in his room?" Mr. Weasley asked.

"Yes," Ginny replied while eyeing Malfoy cautiously. "Mum's with him."

Mr. Weasley nodded, his face looking worried all of a sudden.

"I'm going upstairs, and I want a civilized conversation in this house while I'm gone," he directed his words more to both his son and Draco, the latter only eyeing him dully. He left without saying another word again.

Ron, Hermione, and Ginny stared at Malfoy with death glares while quickly exchanging looks at each other in silent communication. They saw him scan the room. Another scream and a sob were heard.

"Geez, they really should stop torturing somebody –"

"That somebody is Harry, you moron!" Ron snapped at him. "And he wasn't being tortured. He's –"

"Sick, I know," said Malfoy in a bored, drawling voice. He let himself lean against the sink. "So why aren't you all with him? Isn't Potter your friend?"

"Don't you dare question our friendship," spat Ron. "You know nothing!"

Malfoy sneered. "If I were in there sick and my friends were nowhere to be found, I'd be pissed."

"You have no right to tell us what to do, Malfoy," Hermione said with disdain. "You don't even know Harry's situation."

"And you turn up here without even showing respect to who lives here," said Ginny coldly.

"How can I show respect when I was not even offered a seat?" retorted Malfoy. Ron, Hermione, and Ginny's faces turned red in anger. "And you call this a house?" he whispered while looking around with disgust in his face.

Ron threw him a dirty look. "You don't deserve a seat in here. If you want one, go and buy yourself a chair."

Malfoy laughed deridingly. "Feisty, aren't we?"

"You don't have any business here, Malfoy, so you might as well leave now," said Ginny coldly.

He eyed Ginny coolly. "Weren't you listening to your father, Weaselette?"

"And weren't you listening to Harry's screams, ferret?" snarled Ron. "Harry's sick and he wouldn't talk to the likes of you even if he weren't."

Malfoy crossed his arms. "I'll see that for myself, thanks."

Ron, Hermione, and Ginny narrowed their eyes.

They heard a foot clomping through the ceiling, and another muffled screams from Harry before silence hung in the air inside the Burrow. The tension downstairs ended quickly when Mr. Weasley appeared again in the kitchen soon after; distress had settled on his features.

"Harry's stable now," he announced to the tense group.

"Is he asleep?" Ginny asked as if hopeful that Draco could leave.

"No," said Mr. Weasley. "He's only resting. And," he looked over at Draco. "He's agreed to see you."

Ron was taken aback. "Harry's okay with it? He's been in that ordeal for hours, dad. I'm sure he's exhausted. Can't Malfoy just come back when Harry had enough rest if at all?" He gave an annoyed look at Malfoy. "Harry would've been sleeping now and gaining back his lost strength if only you hadn't come and bother him."

"Looks like he's fine with it," Mr. Weasley said calmly to his son. "He didn't say anything but only gave me a short nod."

" _I'd_ better go and ask him then." Ron started to move, but his father stopped him.

"No need, son. I'm saying only Draco should come up there - and you better stay down here when he does."

"What?" Ron's eyes were wide, and even Hermione and Ginny were looking disapprovingly at Mr. Weasley. "But, dad, he –"

"It's not really our business what Draco intends to talk about with Harry," said Arthur. Ron could see Malfoy smirking from behind his father. He glowered at him.

"He better not do anything to him or else –"

"Do I look that stupid to you?" Malfoy asked Ron with a sneer. "Of course I wouldn't do anything. He'd be no match for me anyway; he's probably too weak to even hold a wand."

Ron lunged at him, but Mr. Weasley immediately grabbed his arm before he could punch Draco to whom Mr. Weasley cast a reproachful look.

"I have given you the chance to talk to Harry. Do so properly and with utmost respect, especially because Harry's ill," said Mr. Weasley resolutely. "Or else I will put a stop to it and send you back to the Ministry. Is that understood?"

Draco only looked away from him.

"Do I make myself absolutely clear?" Mr. Weasley asked him again firmer that time.

"Yes," said Draco blandly.

"Good. Now up you go."

The four of them looked menacingly at Malfoy as he walked up the stairs. Ron saw his eyes glint with malice before he disappeared, and he wished he could hear them talk. _I could probably use an Extendable Ear,_ he thought, but he knew there was no way he could hide it from his dad. He cursed and gave a deep sigh.

* * *

Malfoy made his way to the open door he thought was Harry's. He let himself in without bothering to knock on the frame. Mrs. Weasley was there, but when she saw him, she immediately stood up and let herself out without saying a word.

Malfoy turned his head toward the sick figure of Harry lying in bed, his eyes closed and his breathing was heavy.

He cleared his throat to let him know of his arrival. "Potter."

Harry opened his eyes and looked blearily up at the silver-haired figure in front of him. Even without his glasses, he could make out the sneer carved on his face. He shakily reached for his glasses and put them on. He could see the sun setting outside his window when he addressed the one person he least expected to see, especially after the war.

"Malfoy," he said slowly in a hoarse voice. His throat was very sore and scratchy after screaming for the longest time. He thought he had lost his voice but was surprised to find he had some left. He made no move to sit. He had lost a great deal of energy and the strength to talk was just about his limit.

Malfoy decided to remain standing even though his feet were already hurting him, having last sat down since his family's interrogation at the Ministry. He didn't really want any part of his body to even touch the so-called house of the Weasleys.

"What happened to you?" he asked, his cold eyes scanning the sickly appearance of Harry. "I was expecting a very proud bloke who has defeated the Dark Lord. Not like this." He gestured carelessly Harry's lying shape.

"Sorry to disappoint you, then." Harry could only manage to talk in a low voice despite his willingness to retort loudly at Malfoy. "You're not looking good yourself. The death of Voldemort cost you your looks? You miss him that much?"

Malfoy sniggered. "Hmm... you still have the strength left to utter such nonsense in front of your better."

Harry gave a snort of disgust. "My better? I only see a coward in front of me."

"You don't know me, Potter," retorted Malfoy. "I've done many great things."

"Done many great things according to whom, Crabbe and Goyle?"

"Even without their help I've managed on my own, you know."

"What happened now?" Harry asked. "Someone who has done many great things, you don't look as confident without your little goons behind you. Have you lost your way and needed someone to find your way back? Is that why you're here?"

"Don't think so highly of yourself, Potter," Malfoy barked with harsh laughter.

"Speak for yourself, Malfoy. Aside from insulting my health, why did you come here, then?" Harry asked in frustration. "Because I don't need to hear any more of your rude comments. I've had enough of it."

Malfoy glared at him. "FYI, you saved my life, and as much as I don't want to owe you anything, I do. I only came to return that favour and nothing else!"

Harry smirked. "So is that the way you treat your better to whom you owe your life, then?"

"Shut up, Potter," he spat. "Just tell me how to return the favour so I can leave now."

"Is returning a favour to me like a punishment to you, Malfoy? That you'd rather do it for anyone else?

"Pretty much," he replied bitterly. "I'm sure that you would think of something difficult for me to handle."

"Not seeing your face is enough for me, Malfoy," said Harry. "That's the only thing I could think of and the best one at that."

"No," Malfoy said firmly.

Harry frowned. "No what?"

"I'm not leaving just because you don't want to see my face. So deal with it, Potter."

Harry sighed. "No. I am not going to deal with you. I'm exhausted and sick if you can't tell by now." Harry closed his eyes as a hint to make Malfoy go away, but the latter didn't move.

"Why are you sick?" Malfoy asked, suddenly curious. "I heard you're dying."

Harry tensed at his words. "It's none of your business."

"The way you're screaming, it must be so painful," said Malfoy dramatically.

"Really, Malfoy? I have no idea." Harry said sarcastically.

"So what is it, then?"

"Will you please just leave?"

"No." Malfoy crossed his arms and stood fixedly to where he was. "Tell me how you got sick, and then I'll leave."

Harry gave a deep sigh again. He didn't want Malfoy to know how he got sick. He never wanted to tell anybody else, but people just couldn't stop interfering, and it was pissing him off already. Because he knew Malfoy's family was a huge supporter of You-Know-Who and loved to work on the dark side, he didn't want to take the risk and tell Malfoy about his damaged soul and how it all started from a Horcrux.

"I don't know," Harry lied. "And besides, there's already a cure, so you can just let it go."

"Oh, is that the stone from what is it –" Malfoy scrunched his face, trying to remember the conversation he had overheard from Weasley and Shacklebolt. "The Veil?"

Harry was taken aback. "How did you know that?" he asked, regarding Malfoy with suspicion.

"I have my ways, Potter," replied Malfoy in a bored voice. "So care to tell me now?"

"No," said Harry defiantly. Just because Malfoy owed him, didn't mean he could start telling him about it. _I don't trust him and never will,_ he thought.

"Okay. I could always ask the Weasel's father anyway," Malfoy taunted. "I'm sure he'll tell me once I mention the cure and the stone."

"Let it go, will you?" Harry was getting exasperated. He wished Ron and Hermione or anybody from the Weasleys would take Malfoy away from the room.

"Which part of the word 'no' don't you understand, Potter? I know you're sick, but you didn't hit your head, did you?"

Harry was sure that Malfoy was enjoying the torment he was giving him. Still, he resolved he would never back out until he got what he wanted.

"Please…" Harry begged, his throat becoming painful. He didn't want to argue anymore. He was already exhausted and he just wanted to rest. "Just let it go, Malfoy. I'm getting tired."

"I'm getting tired as well. So why don't you just do yourself a favour and tell me what it is you're looking for? This cure. Do you have it now?"

"I don't, okay? We're still looking for the other."

"Other?" Malfoy asked curiously. "What other?"

Harry was silent. He was contemplating again whether to say anything or not, but he could tell Malfoy was pretty adamant himself and he would never leave unless something was said.

"It's not only the stone that we need but –" he hesitated. _Maybe Malfoy knows,_ he thought. He looked at Malfoy and asked, "Do you know where to find a wild Thestral?"

Malfoy raised his eyebrows. "What do you need a wild Thestral for?"

"Just answer the question, Malfoy. Do you or do you not?"

"You know what's odd, Potter? The Dark Lord had looked for one as well," said Malfoy coldly. "And he just so happened to tell me exactly where to get them."

"Why was he looking for it?" asked Harry. _Was he intending to create more powerful wands?_

"How should I know?" said Malfoy. "The Dark Lord doesn't give out information about his plans. It was only one of my missions."

"Where is it, then?"

"If I tell you, will that conclude my debt to you?"

Harry nodded.

"There's a well-hidden cave in Roscommon, Ireland," said Malfoy. "It is a sanctuary for a bunch of wild and magical creatures. I'd be careful going there if I were you."

**To be continued...**

* * *

**Beta-read by KVeronicaP**


	12. Chapter 12

"A cave in Ireland?" Hermione asked Harry the moment Malfoy left the Burrow.

As exhausted as Harry was, he eagerly told his friends what information Malfoy had disclosed when he had gone up to his room. They listened with their mouths open.

"Do you think he's telling the truth, mate?" Ron asked, his eyes narrowing. "He doesn't fit the criteria of someone to be trusted."

"I think so," said Harry. "He was indebted to me, so he might as well have told me the truth, or else what was the point of him coming here if he were only gonna lie?"

"Well, it's not the first time he'd done it," said Ron in a matter-of-fact tone. "He's a dark wizard, and that's what they do to worm themselves outta sticky situations."

Harry had also been thinking the same thing, but he felt that it was unlikely that Malfoy would lie to him this time. "I don't know, Ron. He sounded truthful to me. He may have lied many times, but he actually saved us once when we were caught and brought to the Malfoy Manor; he didn't confirm our identities to his parents and Bellatrix. He could be changing now and realizing the dark side has nothing to do with him."

"Your dad did say that the Malfoys would like to switch sides and help the Ministry in exchange for freedom and for their name to be cleared," Hermione said to Ron, and Harry tilted his head to look at her.

"Do you think Kingsley would allow it?" asked Ron.

"I honestly don't care whether he accepts or not," said Hermione calmly. "As long as the Malfoys don't do any more damage because of their influence, I'm okay whichever."

"I think I should help them," Harry suddenly piped up. Ron, Hermione, and Ginny gasped, taken aback.

"Have you gone mad?" asked Ron, his eyes wide.

"Why do you think that, Harry?" Hermione asked curiously and added swiftly, "I mean, it wasn't surprising anymore that you want to help, knowing you've always tried to help people and save them, even though sometimes it didn't make any sense. I only wish, Harry, that you're thinking clearly before taking a shot at helping people, especially the Malfoys."

"Because I owe Narcissa," Harry said simply.

They all gaped at him.

Harry reminded them what had happened on the night of the war when he went to the Forbidden forest to surrender himself to Voldemort, in which the Dark Lord had immediately attempted to kill him with the Killing Curse. "... and Narcissa was so concerned for her son that she told Voldemort I was dead." He paused and added as an afterthought, "I don't think she ever truly supported Voldemort more than she did her family."

Understanding finally dawned on them, but Ron snorted.

"They're lucky that they have you saving their arses from being sent to Azkaban. If she didn't save you from Voldemort, I wonder what Draco would do now without his parents, assuming You-Know-Who'd've killed them? He would have had to try even harder to fit in the society who hates his family now more than ever. Imagine being broke as well?"

Hermione reminded Ron of the talk Mr. Weasley shared to them that afternoon. "Mr. Weasley said that Kingsley was only threatening the Malfoys that he would put all their wealth to the Ministry if they ever lie," she said sharply. "I don't think he would actually leave Draco without a single sum of money to support himself if it came to that. It's just cruel."

"I would have a hard time believing that the Minister would become so heartless," said Ginny. "I know Kingsley, and I don't believe he'd ever do that."

"Well, the Malfoys are cruel people," snarled Ron, pounding his fist on the wall to where he sat. "Now that they've been caught, all they have to deal with are cruel decisions made about them. I still haven't forgotten all the times that they've mocked our family for being poor, you know. Now that possibility could happen to them and I would want to see how they strive to live and be called poor."

Harry silently agreed that the Malfoys gained their supreme reputation and their richness and power for their pureblood lineage. _Even though the Weasleys are purebloods as well, I guess they have received countless ridicules from the Malfoys for their lack of money and their sympathy for non-magical folks,_ Harry thought.

"How do you plan on helping them, Harry?" asked Hermione eagerly.

Ron shook his head, still in disbelief. "I never thought a time would come that you have to help the one family that you despised the most."

"I don't despise the Malfoys," said Harry. "It's just..." he hesitated, not wanting to explain any further. "It doesn't matter now. Anyway, I guess I just have to talk to Kingsley and tell him what I know and go from there."

"Do you think Kingsley would listen to what you've got to say?" Ginny asked uncertainty.

"It wouldn't hurt to try, but I really want to avoid going to the Ministry if I could help it."

"We could talk to your dad," Hermione suggested to them. "Maybe he can convince Kingsley to come here at the Burrow instead."

"Let's also not forget Hagrid about the Thestrals in Ireland and hear what he says," Ginny reminded them.

They all nodded.

By then, Harry's exhaustion had reached its limit, and sleep had slowly crept in, weighing down his lids more and more. They decided to defer that night's agenda of talking to Mr. Weasley to the next day; it was late in the evening anyway, and they all felt they needed rest. They had given Harry a vial of Nutrition potion since he wasn't able to eat anything that day, and by the time they left Harry's room, he was already fast asleep.

* * *

Morning came, and Harry shifted uncomfortably in his bed sheets, feeling groggy. He opened his eyes and blinked several times to adjust to the light that was streaming from the windows. He squinted and saw a blurry outline of a ceiling. _Where am I?_ Panic slammed into him for a moment before Harry turned his head to one side and saw his belongings scattered around in the room. _Oh, that's right. I'm in the Burrow._

His body felt really weak when he hoisted himself up from the bed.

"That's strange," he said to himself. He gasped in pain when he tried to stand, falling hard on the floor instead. His knees that refused to support his weight wobbled and shook, and he swallowed, only to find his throat sore and painful. He gave an involuntary sigh. _What's going on with me now?_

Harry walked at a snail's pace when he decided to come down for breakfast. He leaned on walls and held on tightly to whatever that could support him as he trudged out of his room and down the stairs. He spotted Mr. Weasley coming down for breakfast as well. Harry gave him an awkward smile when he saw him.

Harry's legs suddenly gave out. Without warning, Mr. Weasley swooped him in and carried him all the way to the kitchen despite Harry's protests. Harry's face had gone red from embarrassment when he sat down. The rest of the Weasleys and Hermione were conversing quietly with each other and looking worriedly at him. He smiled feebly at them.

"Oh, Harry," said Mrs. Weasley as she held her hands to Harry's face. "You look really pale, dear. Did you sleep well? How are you feeling?"

Harry felt his body stiffen. Only a moment ago he would have smiled at them, but this time, something was wrong. The room began to spin, and he couldn't remember why he would have smiled in the first place. He flinched against Mrs. Weasley's touch and shrunk back from her. He gazed frantically around him, and everywhere he looked, he couldn't recognize his surroundings and the people at the table.

"Harry, are you alright?" Mrs. Weasley asked with a perplexed look in her eyes. She moved her hand to touch him again, but he flinched once more, making her freeze mid-action. "Harry?"

Harry tried to focus his attention on the unfamiliar woman by him but snapped his head about when another spoke, fixing him with a questioning look.

"What's going on, Harry? What's wrong?" Hermione asked.

Memories rushed back to Harry. He blinked a couple of times before answering breathlessly, "Hermione... I - I'm fine."

"Are you sure, mate?" Ron asked anxiously. "You seemed lost for a moment."

Harry nodded. He couldn't find his voice; his throat felt too tight to allow any words.

"If you say so," his red-haired friend stated, still looking uncertain. "You were looking at us as if you were only seeing us for the first time."

Harry cleared his throat and said his automatic response of "I'm fine" in a barely audible whisper.

In truth, panic threatened to overtake him when he thought his memories had slipped away completely. He realized now that he had been feeling worse than yesterday. He knew that his health was drastically deteriorating, even if he wouldn't admit it. He had acquired a headache from his fitful sleep last night, and now his eyes had turned blood-shot. His throat had gone so dry and sore from his screaming that whenever he coughed, he could see blood come back on his hand.

The burning feeling left quite a side effect on Harry's skin as well. He winced every time he moved suddenly, feeling the pain that lingered inside him. His sense of touch seemed heightened.

Everyone eyed Harry nervously when he stared at his breakfast plate, slowly scooping little bits of food and wincing every now and then. They were finding it really hard to watch Harry eat when he trembled too much. His utensils had fallen from his hands quite a few times already with loud clatters. They could see Harry's frustration each time he lowered his head and took deep, calming breaths so he could try again. Harry was aware of their eyes on him, but he preferred not to look at them.

Sensing the need to help, Ginny offered to feed him.

"I'm sorry," Harry said in a whisper. He felt really embarrassed about eating so poorly, but he straightened up with a determined glint in his eyes. They all knew he was getting weaker and that his body had slowly become progressively worse in its responses to any movement or other stimuli.

Ginny gave him a sad smile. "It's okay," she said while scooping a bit of egg for Harry to eat. "Don't worry about it."

Mrs. Weasley placed a vial of Nutrition potion in front of Harry so he could take it after eating, knowing he would need a lot of it now. He looked at it with reluctance. His appetite began to be annoyingly unpredictable. He wanted to eat and feel full again, but most of the time, he felt as though his brain was raging in a series of battles to the death with his hunger - the former typically the victor.

Hermione had started a conversation with Mr. Weasley, and Harry was glad that the rest of the Weasleys diverted their attention to her. He guessed she'd seen his insecurities through his burning cheeks and must've sensed how uncomfortable he was while eating.

"Mr. Weasley, is there a chance that the Minister would be able to visit the Burrow?"

Mr. Weasley was surprised by the question. He gulped his drink before speaking. "Yes. Why do you ask?"

"Harry wants to talk to him about the Malfoys," she replied.

Mr. Weasley turned his head to Harry and said, "If you don't mind me asking, are you planning on giving testimony against their behalf, Harry?"

But Harry seemed not to have heard him, sitting with his head in his hand.

"Harry?" Hermione called softly.

Harry looked up, confusion visible in his eyes. "Yes?"

"Are you alright? You look distracted," she said, looking worried. "Mr. Weasley has a question for you."

"Uh... sorry," he whispered. "Who is Mr. Weasley?"

The rest of the Weasleys glanced at each other, looking bewildered.

Hermione gaped at him. "Harry, what -"

"That would be me, Harry," Mr. Weasley cut Hermione off and gave Harry a sad smile.

"I'm sorry," Harry muttered quickly under his breath. "What was your question, sir?"

Ron raised his eyebrows at the mention of 'sir'. Similarly, everyone gave strange stares at Harry.

"I was merely asking whether you were planning on giving testimony against the Malfoys."

"Oh..." Harry fell silent for a few moments. _Testimony against the Malfoys?_ Harry asked himself, deep in thought. He was at a loss for words, nervous to be asked right on the spot. He inhaled deeply and flickered his eyes after a while. Shaking his head, his voice came out hoarsely, "It's actually the contrary."

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley nearly fell over from their seats.

"Really?" asked Mr. Weasley curiously, looking quite interested now at the sudden turn in discussion. "I'm sorry, Harry, but someone like you helping out the Malfoys is just hard to believe. I'm sure Kingsley would take into consideration whatever you present to him. But what's the reason for your sudden want to help them?" Before he could stop himself, he added, lowering his voice, "Draco didn't blackmail you, did he?"

"No, Mr. Weasley," Harry said quickly. "I was just thinking of lending them a hand because I'm indebted to Narcissa Malfoy. She saved my life from Voldemort, you see."

Mr. Weasley scratched his almost bald head, looking startled. "Saved you? How? I'm sorry, Harry, but I am having a hard time believing that a Malfoy would save someone other than their own."

Ron spoke before he could stop himself, "Believe me, dad, we all know what you mean."

"Do tell us how it all happened, dear," Mrs. Weasley beckoned Harry to continue.

Harry retold the story again, stopping once in a while when a cough wracked his chest and he needed to reach for his water glass. By the time he finished, Mr. Weasley had crossed his arms and was in deep thought.

Before he could say anything, Harry spoke again. "Also, Draco was indebted to me," he informed them. "He told me where we might be able to find the wild Thestrals."

"Oh, that reminds me," said Ron at once. "I already sent a letter to Hagrid last night, so we'll see whether Malfoy was telling the truth or was just plain bluffing."

Harry nodded his thanks to Ron.

"Mr. Weasley, you said Kingsley actually is planning to come here," said Hermione. "May I ask why?"

"Ah," mused Mr. Weasley. "Kingsley would like to personally deliver the piece of the stone from the Veil to Harry, maybe to have a little chat as well... Don't ask me; I don't know any more," he said to Hermione when she opened her mouth as if to ask why again. He turned to Harry, worry knitting his brows. "You wouldn't mind it, Harry?" he asked.

Harry shook his head.

"Excellent. I shall inform Kingsley once I'm back at work," Mr. Weasley picked up his fork without another word, and the rest of them did the same.

* * *

The fireplace erupted in flames just before Harry finished his meal, revealing Percy Weasley sporting a smile at his family who jumped up from their seats at his sudden appearance.

"Percy!"

Mrs. Weasley ran to his son and caught him up in a smothering hug. She automatically broke it to examine him all over, "Have you been eating alright, dear? Oh, I have missed you!"

"How are you, son?" asked Mr. Weasley who had come right behind his wife to hug his son as well.

Everyone else waved at him from the table, including Harry whom Percy felt both pleased and worried to see. through his parent's hugs, he had immediately noticed Harry's appearance and sickly stature. Even from afar, one could tell how his health had worsened over a few short weeks; his thin frame made his shirt looked even more over-sized. His face looked very pale as though he hadn't seen the sun for quite a while. Percy let go of the hug and gave a worried sigh, knowing the Potter boy was the reason for his visit and wanted to see for himself how Harry was doing. He hadn't expected that he would look so frail and weak.

"How are you, Percy?" Harry asked in his usually low, hoarse voice that took Percy by surprise; he winced slightly when he heard it. Nevertheless, he smiled through his alarm and concern.

"Is the Ministry treating you well?" Ron interjected.

"As a matter of fact, yes," Percy replied. Mr. Weasley motioned for him to sit down as Mrs. Weasley piled on a heap of food for him. "I've been doing well, to answer your question, Harry. Although I must say, the turn of events got me awfully preoccupied lately. Death Eaters have breached multiple Floo fireplaces in different areas, and we're closely monitoring any questionable activities."

"Death Eaters breaching fireplaces?" Ron asked in alarm.

"They're everywhere, Ron. On the run and hiding... but some still have the audacity to violate and trespass on Ministry's property, carrying out various attacks... And there has been so much riot at the Ministry about you, Harry. People want to see you. They want to know what has become of the boy who killed the Dark Lord."

"Yeah, we've heard that," said Ron, giving Percy a raised eyebrow when he said the "Dark Lord" instead of "You-Know-Who".

"What's become of Harry Potter?" Harry echoed in a peculiar voice.

"Yes, that's what I said," said Percy, raising his eyebrows at Harry.

But he seemed unable to follow when Harry asked, "Why? What happened to him?"

A very awkward pause hung thick in the air. Percy gazed uncertainly at Harry before giving the rest of the Weasleys a look as though asking for some explanations for Harry's suddenly odd behaviour.

Before anyone could even explain, Harry spoke again, this time sounding normal. "I don't expect much once they see me like this," he said quietly. "I don't think they would even recognize me." They all regarded him with worry etched in their features.

"You can't be seen, Harry," Hermione anxiously told him. "No one can know what has been happening to you. Once a Death Eater finds out you're this ill and weak, they'll all try and attack you for killing off Voldemort. They want revenge."

"I know that, Hermione," he said coldly. "It _would_ be an easy task for them since I'm already dying." Harry closed his eyes and rubbed his hand to his temple again.

All heads turned in his direction.

Hermione bit her lip, affronted. "Don't say that, Harry."

"We just need to be careful in choosing whom we confide," said Mr. Weasley gently. "We know how to get this cure, and before the wizarding world knows it, Harry'll back on track."

Harry gave a small smile, but he felt a slight twinge in his chest. Every time they talked about fixing his problem, he couldn't help but feel sad and hopeless. The uncertainties shrouding his later health only continued to mirk his future. He was tired of all the things that had been happening; he preferred not to know his future... _because there isn't one for me,_ he thought sadly.

Percy proceeded to fill his family more on what had happened at the Ministry, each conversation lasting no more than a few minutes, but Harry didn't participate in them; he only observed, staying silent. He propped his head on his hand and closed his eyes again when the talk turned to him.

"So, Harry… how was your life here?" asked Percy, repeating the question again when he didn't reply. "Harry?"

"Uh…" Harry brought his hand down and looked at Percy under leaden lids. He wasn't in the mood to talk anymore. "It was great. Thank you, Percy."

Ginny grabbed the vial of Nutrition potion, along with the ignored Healing potion that her mother had placed on the table, and urged Harry to take them. After no small amount of coaxing, he relented, allowing her to help him pour the liquids into his mouth.

"Do you want to take a rest, Harry?" Mrs. Weasley asked when Harry closed his eyes again. "You can sleep on the sofa." He nodded and stood up slowly.

Ron helped him walk, managing to reach the living room before Harry's knees buckled and he collapsed. Ron and his father carried him to the sofa where he fell asleep in an instant after mumbling his thanks.

"Is he really dying?" Percy asked Mrs. Weasley in a whisper.

Mrs. Weasley looked at him sadly. "We don't want to think that, but… yes, he is."

"What happened to him? He was looking fine when I saw him last at the battle at Hogwarts."

"He was," said Ginny quietly. "Not until You-Know-Who killed a part of his soul inside Harry and then it started."

"You-Know-Who's what?" Ginny's brother did a double take, having never heard of such a thing. "What do you mean, Ginny?"

It was Hermione who explained Harry's situation to Percy, careful to leave out the concept of Horcruxes themselves. By the time she finished, Percy was looking grave and speechless.

"And now," added Ginny. "We're only awaiting those two ingredients, and then we can start the mending process. I really wish Hagrid and Kingsley would hurry up. We're losing Harry as time passes by."

"Did dad talk to the Minister?" Percy asked them.

"Yes," Ginny confirmed. "And I think he's planning on coming here to give that piece of stone to Harry."

Percy nodded his understanding. "Earlier, Harry was acting like he couldn't recognize himself when I mentioned his name. What was that about?"

Ginny squirmed in her seat. Ron and Hermione exchanged lost glances.

"Harry's memories... I think they're confusing him in some way," said Hermione, her voice cracking slightly. "There was a time that he couldn't remember anything... and a time like today when - well..." she trailed off.

"Like there was an on and off switch," Ron said heavily.

"It's heartbreaking seeing him like this," said Ginny miserably. She turned her head to gaze at Harry's sleeping form. The corners of her eyes prickled with tears. "Him not knowing who he is... or the faces of his friends... I - I couldn't bear it. It'd be very painful if one day Harry couldn't be able to remember me and our relationship..."

Hermione wrapped her arms around Ginny's shoulders in a comforting hug, her tears threatening to fall at any minute. She took a deep breath. "He'll be okay, Ginny. We'll get through this... you'll see..."

A soft tap at the kitchen window alerted them to the sight of Pigwidgeon with a letter tied to his leg.

"It must be Hagrid!" exclaimed Ron as he ran to open the window to let the owl in. After untangling the thread tied to a scroll, he unrolled the piece of parchment, Hermione and Ginny joining him as he read the letter aloud.

_Ron,_

_I got the Thestral's tail hair but I am badly injured. Death Eaters attacked me. I am being treated at St. Mungo's Hospital right now._

_Hagrid_

All three of them looked at each other, shock evident on their faces. They rejoined Percy at the table, sitting themselves down so fast, they nearly disrupted the mug of tea in Percy's hands, eliciting a sharp gasp from Mrs. Weasley already clearing the plates with her wand.

"Was Hagrid attacked in Ireland?" Ron asked in a panic.

Hermione looked aghast. "But - nobody else could have known -"

Mrs. Weasley paused cleaning the table. "Who was attacked?" Ron handed her Hagrid's letter. "Oh my…" she said when she finished reading.

"I never thought Hagrid would be attacked by Death Eaters," said Hermione fearfully. "If anything, I'd have thought wild animals would be a more likely danger."

"Even if he was, how did the Death Eaters know Hagrid was going to be there?" Ginny asked quietly.

"Death Eaters are everywhere now," Ron reminded them. "Remember what Percy said; they're on the run and in hiding."

"I'm thinking about the same thing, but that's beside the point!" said Hermione shrilly. "Death Eaters are on the run and in hiding, and they just happened to be in that very cave where the wild Thestrals are? I mean, it's suicide to even think to hide there where wild animals gather and live. No -" she said flatly. "It wasn't just a coincidence." She slammed her palm flat on the table. "Argh! It's so frustrating not knowing the answers to our questions."

Ginny's voice rose to a frantic degree. "But no one else knows of our plan. No one knows that Hagrid will visit and check that cave in Ireland."

"There is one," said Ron, his eyes blazing. "Draco Malfoy."

"Draco Malfoy?" Percy asked, shock evident on his face, but in the next moment, his eyes glinted wickedly.

Ron nodded at him but was slightly taken aback at Percy's expression. He thought he saw malice smouldering in his eyes.

Percy jutted his chin forward. "How did he know about this?"

"Before dad went home, Malfoy asked if he could talk to Harry," Ginny explained. "He came here, and he was the one who told Harry where to find the wild Thestrals."

"Is that so?" asked Percy, his hand on his chin as though he was thinking of something.

"Harry said he was being truthful," Hermione reasoned quickly. "He can't just betray Harry. He said Malfoy owed him his life and that he was only returning the favour when he came here. He can't be the traitor."

"Who else knows about the cave aside from Voldemort, then?" challenged Ron. "Malfoy was the other one who knew about it, unless you could think of someone else."

Hermione sighed. "But it's just so unlikely that Malfoy would do such an important thing for Harry only to go back on his pureblood name."

"Who cares what Malfoy think he's doing!" snarled Ron. "He's a Death Eater, and that's how they work regardless if they owe you their life. Once a Death Eater, always a Death Eater, no matter what the situation is."

"It doesn't make sense," Hermione said, frustration creasing her forehead. "I thought his family wanted to switch sides to clear their name. Were they just lying?"

"They're a bunch of liars, Hermione," said Ron in a hard voice. "What else would they be?"

"I say we go visit Hagrid and see what happened," suggested Ginny.

"I'm gonna stay here for a while with mum and dad," Percy informed them. Mrs. Weasley squeezed his shoulders gratefully. "I can look out for Harry as well while you guys visit Hagrid."

Ron and Hermione nodded, and they stood up quickly to prepare to leave.

**To be continued...**

* * *

**Beta-read by KVeronicaP**


	13. Chapter 13

Ron, Hermione, and Ginny arrived at the ground floor of St. Mungo's hospital. The last time they had been here, they had been being escorted by Moody and Tonks to visit Mr. Weasley after they had found out that he was bitten by a snake. That memory hit all three of them with a wave of grief. They missed them both. Their Auror abilities had been like no other's, and they felt their deaths like losing a father and a mother.

The reception seemed to be quite empty, unlike the last time they had visited. They had seen rows of witches and wizards seated on rickety wooden chairs back then. Some had been disfigured-looking patients, and the others had merely made very peculiar noises. This time, quiet pervaded the cold chamber, and only the flipping of pages could be heard from a couple of witches reading out-of-date copies of _Witch Weekly_.

They saw the familiar lime-green robed Healers walking up and down the hallway. The three of them approached the plump blonde witch at the desk marked INQUIRIES.

"We're here to see Rubeus Hagrid," said Hermione quickly.

"Oh, the giant," said the witch in a bored voice. She gave a yawn before adding, "He gave us quite a fright when he came in here."

"What happened to him?" Ron hissed with a somewhat offended look after hearing the witch call Hagrid 'the giant'.

The blonde witch didn't seem to notice his tone of annoyance, replying, "Well, he's got huge cuts in his arms and chest... He was bleeding so badly, he left with puddles of blood on the floor. He's probably resting now."

Ginny's speckled features creased with concern. "Where can we find him?"

"Fourth floor. Go through here," the witch raised a bony finger at the double doors to the side, beyond her desk. "There's a lift that'll take you there."

"Thank you," said Hermione.

They had been inside the double doors before as well and very much remembered the portraits of famous Healers that still lined the walls lit with candles floating up from the ceiling. Their footsteps sent bare echoes gliding across the marble rooms, and they only had to climb a flight of stairs to arrive at the first floor for creature-induced injuries.

Beyond the hall, they found two lifts that stood behind wrought silver grilles. They entered one of them when the grilles opened automatically. The lift ascended slowly once the grilles slid shut. After a few silent minutes, the lift came to a stop, and a cool female voice said, "Level four, Spell Damage." The moment the grilles opened, several paper airplanes swooped into the lift and flapped idly around above their heads. They stared at them for a moment as they read the one closed to them a word that said BILL stamped along the edges of their wings. They stepped out of the lift and looked around.

A motherly-looking Healer saw the three of them and immediately approached them. "How may I help you, dears?" she asked, smiling warmly at them.

"Could you direct us to the ward of Rubeus Hagrid?" asked Hermione.

"He's right there," The Healer pointed her finger at a door that was at the very end of the hallway.

The ward was small and rather dingy. It was set for four patients, but no one else was there except a rather huge form occupying a small bed and looking very uncomfortable. Hagrid looked up and gave a huge smile.

"Hagrid!" All three of them rushed to his side. His arms and chest were heavily bandaged, and although his face was fine, some gashes streaked along his cheeks, even if they did appear to be healing.

"Hi there," greeted Hagrid. "Good thing yeh got my letter."

"We got your letter this morning and came immediately," piped Ron at once. "Harry'd definitely want to come and see you if he found out."

Hagrid furrowed his thick eyebrows. "What d'yeh mean? Harry don' know I'm injured?"

"He's getting worse, Hagrid," Ginny informed him. "He can barely walk, move, or eat anymore. He's constantly exhausted. He was asleep when we decided to see you."

Hagrid looked sadly at her.

"So tell us what happened to you, Hagrid?" Hermione asked worriedly and put a comforting hand on his massive arm. "You gave us quite a fright when you wrote us that you were attacked by Death Eaters."

"I was," said Hagrid gruffly. "Good thing I made it in time in 'ere or else I would've lost 'oo much blood."

"But what happened?" Ron asked impatiently. "Were you attacked in that cave of the Thestrals? Did you recognize the Death Eaters?"

Hagrid turned and shifted his weight to the other side of the bed before filling them in. "I was doin' me search of the Thestrals in one o' the lands that were far east at Hogwarts and close to Ireland when I got yer letter, Ron," stated Hagrid. "I had suspected as much tha' there would be wild ones in there... only I didn't know exactly where until yeh told me on the letter. Did yeh check yer owl this morning, Ron?"

Ron's expression darkened. "No, why?"

"The thing is," said Hagrid. "When yer owl delivered yer letter ter me, his left wing was in a weird angle... he's most certainly injured. His feathers were badly ruffled, too."

"Do you think he was attacked?" asked Hermione, looking both perplexed and worried. "And that Ron's letter was intercepted?"

"It looked like it," he replied. "I was worried yer owl wouldn' make it back ter yeh, but it seemed he was alright, then?"

"I haven't totally checked him when he arrived," said Ron.

"Yer might want ter check him up when you go home later," Hagrid said firmly to him.

"And then what happened next, Hagrid?" Hermione asked. She quietly dropped herself on the chair opposite Hagrid.

"I managed ter Apparate close ter the cave yeh mentioned. No one was there at first, so I started looking for the Thestrals. I found 'em huddled on a very far corner of the cave. By the time I got the tail hair, dark cloaks started emerging from all sides."

"Is that how you got those injuries?" asked Ginny, indicating the bandages in Hagrid's arms and chest.

"Two o' the Death Eaters cast a Severing charm on me," said Hagrid while looking at his bandages. "The charm could've killed me, but they didn' do a pretty good job with it 'cuz it were so dark 'n all - I only managed ter get away jus' in time when they started to cast more. I Apparated straight ter here."

Ron's mouth hinged wide open, and Hermione covered her mouth with her hands.

"I wouldn't want to think what could've happened if you didn't get away quickly," said Ginny, shivering slightly as chills run down her spine.

"You didn't see any of their faces, Hagrid?" Ron asked worriedly.

"No, it was dark inside the cave."

There was a short silence. Hermione withdrew into deep thought, and she could tell the others were thinking the same thing. Who could possibly send the Death Eaters after Hagrid? Who attacked Ron's owl so that it could be intercepted? Was Malfoy behind all these?

"We were thinking that it was Draco Malfoy who sent those Death Eaters after you, Hagrid," Ron revealed at once.

"Draco Malfoy?" Hagrid asked in surprise.

Ron nodded, determined. "There's just no other way around it. He must be the only one who knew about the cave -"

"We don't know that for sure, Ron," interrupted Ginny. "You-Know-Who may have told some of his other followers about the cave."

"But..." protested Ron. "Malfoy said himself that You-Know-Who told him about it. We just weren't sure why he would betray Harry if he owed his life to him."

"He owes Harry?" Hagrid looked like he had found it hard to believe. "How?"

"Harry saved his life at the Battle of Hogwarts," Ron explained. With a dark look, he added, "I honestly would've let him die if it was me. If he did betray Harry and sent those Death Eaters to come after you, he doesn't deserve to be saved."

Hermione looked up and met Ron's eyes. "But we don't know if that's true, Ron," she protested. "There may be someone else out there planning the attacks. I still don't think Malfoy –"

"Yeah, I've heard that, Hermione." Ron cut her off, a note of annoyance souring in his voice. He crossed his arms before adding, "It feels like you're siding with him."

"I am not, Ron," Hermione replied heatedly. "I am only saying that he knew about Harry's dire illness and he was very willing to help even if it's against his will."

"He's only faking it, Hermione," insisted Ron. "He's very good at it. He'd never help Harry."

"So what was the point of him coming to the Burrow and talking to Harry?" Hermione questioned with a raised eyebrow.

"I dunno. He was probably just there to snoop around."

Hermione sighed mentally to herself. She didn't know how else to argue. There were some parts that she agreed with Ron but some didn't. A sad look graced her face and she glanced apologetically at Hagrid.

"We're sorry, Hagrid. We didn't mean for you to get hurt for this mission."

"Tha's alright, Hermione," said Hagrid, trying to make a small smile, but it came across as more of a grimace. "I know what I signed up for. Besides, it's for Harry's health. I'd do anythin' for him."

"How long are you gonna be staying here?" she asked.

"A few days I would have expected, but since I'm... yer know, a giant n' all, I don' think they wan' me much longer - Oh!" Hagrid exclaimed all of a sudden. "I almost forgot –" he grabbed something out in his pocket and handed it to Hermione. "Here yeh go."

It was a blotchy envelope containing a Thestral tail hair.

Hermione's eyes welled up with tears as she took it from him. "Thank you, Hagrid. Harry would be so happy once we tell him." She pocketed it and raised her gaze again to meet Hagrid's. "Would you like to come with us?"

"I want ter. Hold on -" Hagrid stretched in bed before standing up and bending a little so as not to hit the ceiling. He grabbed his pink umbrella from the side of his bed and followed Ron, Hermione, and Ginny when they moved for the door.

They were about to take the stairs when they met Augustus Pye. Hermione recognized him from the time of Mr. Weasley's injury. His nametag was visibly attached to his lime green robe that showed his occupation as a Healer. His eyes lit up immediately upon seeing Ron and Ginny as one of the Weasleys.

"Hello," he greeted. "I thought the Weasleys would be here."

"What do you mean you thought we'd be here?" asked Ron, a look of confusion furrowing the features on his face.

"Aren't you visiting your brother?" Augustus asked in surprise.

"What are you talking about?" Ginny gasped, bewildered. "I wasn't aware of any of my brothers being here. Which brother?"

"Percy Weasley, of course."

Ron raised his eyebrows. "No, that's not possible. Percy is at home right now with our parents."

The Healer cocked his head, taken aback, and his eyes opened in sudden shock. "I assure you, Percy is here. He was admitted early this morning. He was unconscious when they brought him in. Looked like someone attacked him."

Ginny gaped at Augustus. "But that can't be! We talked to Percy; he was fine when he showed up, and he didn't look like he was attacked."

"Percy never left the hospital," informed the Healer. "Are you sure your brother went home? Because he's here right now. I can show you to his ward."

"That doesn't make any sense," whispered Hermione to Ron and Ginny as they hurriedly followed Augustus on the same floor but on the other side of the hallway. Hagrid stayed behind as the rest of them entered the ward since his huge form wouldn't allow him access inside the smaller room.

Upon entering, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny saw a red-haired young man with horn-rimmed glasses lying in bed and looking flustered from the pain. They immediately dashed to his side.

They caught the young man unawares, and when he saw the group enter, he gave a yelp. "I wasn't expecting you guys to come and visit."

"We weren't expecting you to be here either, Percy. What are you doing? Did something happen at the Burrow?" Ron asked quickly, narrowing his eyes at his brother.

"The Burrow?" a perplexed-looking Percy asked. "I've never been to the Burrow yet. I mean, I was going to but I never had the chance." He blinked rapidly for a moment at them.

Everyone's eyes went wide and round in surprise. "What do you mean you weren't expecting us?" Hermione asked curiously.

Percy brought his head down, looking embarrassed. "Well," he said in a low voice. "I didn't want anyone to know that I was admitted here. I didn't want all of you to worry. I was going to handle it on my own."

"You were attacked, Percy! The Healer just told us. How can you say that?" Ginny asked incredulously. "Of course, we'd be worried."

"I heard Harry is sick... Dad told me - but I didn't hear from him again after that. I planned on visiting, but work - you know..." Percy trailed off, not meeting their expectant gazes. "What are you all doing here, anyway? Are mum and dad here as well?"

"We came here for Hagrid," said Ginny.

A surprised look appeared on Percy's face. "Hagrid?"

"Yeah," answered Ron. "Death Eaters attacked him." He launched into details of what happened.

"...What?" Percy's eyes remained fixed on Ron.

"Hagrid's alright now," confirmed Ginny. "The Healers patched him up."

"Where is he?" asked Percy.

"Outside. He said he's fine with staying by the door while we talked to you."

"Tell us what happened to you," said Ron, looking closely at Percy.

Percy shifted uncomfortably in his bed. "I was in my office this morning... I actually don't remember much of anything else at the time the incident happened, but I woke up, and here I am. I had plans to visit the Burrow but... like I said, I never had the chance."

They exchanged nervous glances with each other. "The attack, did you see anyone or heard anything?" asked Hermione anxiously.

Percy shook his head. "No. I don't think I saw anyone... although I think I heard someone mutter something before I passed out."

Hermione tightened her grip on her fists, and Ron and Ginny had suddenly turned pale.

"What's going on?" insisted Percy. "You said I was at home?"

"Early this morning you Flooed to the Burrow," Hermione explained quickly, drops of stressed perspiration beginning to come out of her forehead. "We talked to you and – Oh Merlin!" She brought her shaking hands to cover her mouth.

Percy sat up straight in bed, panic blossoming across his face at the sight of Hermione's alarmed look. "Is there someone pretending to be me right now?"

No one said anything, but any suspicions would have been confirmed when he heard Ginny gasp, "Mum and dad – _Harry_!"

Percy scrambled out of his bed, and with no time to spare, they all darted quickly outside the ward.

"I'll come back, Augustus!" Percy said in a hurried voice, leaving a stupefied-looking Healer behind.

* * *

It was eerily quiet when they Apparated back outside of the Burrow. Even the gnomes hiding under the rose bushes seemed to have been hushed. Hagrid in the lead tramped as quickly toward the house as he could without letting his heavy footsteps fall too loudly, the teens at his heels. He pushed the front door very slowly, his pink umbrella raised and at the ready.

A stillness permeated throughout the whole house, and the scene of total devastation met their eyes. The kitchen was a mess; chairs were strewn across the floor with shards of glass and china. Even the windows stood cracked and jagged in their frames as well. Hagrid's sudden small intake of breath made the teens swivel their heads to follow his gaze. They gasped when they found Mr. and Mrs. Weasley unconscious on the floor, their wands inches away from their hands.

Ginny rushed to their sides, tears starting to well in her eyes. "Mum? Dad?" she called with a quivering voice. She immediately checked for their pulse, and she gave a sigh of relief. "It looks like they put up some sort of fight, but they were knocked out by a stunning spell."

"But wha' happened 'ere?" asked Hagrid quietly, looking around the small kitchen. Before someone could even say or do anything, a chuckle followed by a piercing cry of pain echoed in the living room. They hurried to see who had caused the noise but stopped in their tracks, and the remaining colour drained from their faces at once.

Percy Weasley was seated on a chair with his arms and legs crossed like some self-satisfied politician waiting for his next appointment. It seemed obvious that the impostor had used a Polyjuice potion to look like Percy. The real one raised his wand high, ready to strike his look-alike in front of them. But the fake Percy inclined his head to the side - Harry lay doubled over on the floor and writhing in agony.

"Funny how a few drops of this potion can cause so much pain," mused the impostor while examining the remaining liquid inside a small vial in his hand. He didn't look up at the small crowd that had formed in front of him nor flinched at the five wands pointed at him. He seemed as if he already knew who they were, so much as to act as if he were enjoying a cordial visit from them as he reclined upon the chair.

If Hagrid hadn't been holding him up and gripping his arm tightly to stop him, Ron would've succeeded in leaping straight to the impostor to tackle him. He only gritted his teeth in anger. "Who are you and what have you done to Harry?" he hissed in a deadly voice, his wand aimed directly at the fake Percy who grinned menacingly, making him growl in annoyance. The impostor reached his hand over to Harry's hair and pulled his head up sharply for everyone in the room to see his pained face.

"Don't you dare touch him!" barked Hagrid. He lunged at the impostor who immediately flicked his wrist, hanging him immobile in the air. Ron was having a hard time suppressing his fury. The tip of his wand was producing sparks.

But the fake Percy only ignored Hagrid. He flashed a triumphant and sadistic smile and replied casually to Ron, "I poisoned him, you see. You don't know how long I've waited to hear his scream and see him in so much pain." He paused momentarily as if to savour the sound of Harry's screams of pain.

"Why are you doing this?" Hermione asked, distraught. She advanced on the impostor slowly but stopped when he tilted the vial of poison close to Harry's lips as a warning.

Without preamble, the impostor drew out another vial of potion in his pocket and drank the contents; his appearance changing quickly. Before their eyes, curly red hair lengthened into long, pale blond hair that tied itself into a neat braid to hang down to his lower back, and his freckled features morphed into hard, blunt angles, but the unpleasant smile he wore remained.

Hermione's insides plummeted sickeningly, while Ginny and Percy gave a gasp of horror at the sight of a Death Eater. Hagrid sent death glares toward him.

Ron gasped. "Corban Yaxley," he muttered under her breath.

"That's right." Yaxley leaned his back against the chair again. "I have to say, I quite like that place where you tried to Disapparate to the last time you three were at the Ministry pretending to be someone else. I kept it for my hiding purposes, very useful."

"G–grim… mauld pl–lace isn't… y–yours to keep," croaked Harry weakly, through continuous writhes, and he cried out beside Yaxley as the poison intensified.

Yaxley gave a soft chuckle. "Oh, but it's mine now. You took away what was important to me, so I shall take away yours. The Dark Lord had plans, and you destroyed them." He kicked Harry's back and he let out a loud cry.

Ron looked as if he wanted to strangle Yaxley while Hermione and Ginny were on the verge of tears. They slowly advanced on him, their wands held high and unwavering.

"Oh, I heard Harry is dying," mocked Yaxley. He held up the poison and added, "This will speed up the process, won't it? But more painfully." His eyes shone with malice, and he grinned evilly at them before he flicked his wand and Disapparated.

A distressed " _No!_ " burst forth from Ron's lips, but Hermione and Ginny instantly dropped their wands to rush to Harry's side. The real Percy cast the countercurse at Hagrid to make him move once again.

"Harry..." Hagrid scooped the limp boy into his arms. Harry's breathing wheezed heavily, and cries of pain still reverberated around the living room.

With Harry tucked safely in the giant's arms, Ginny dashed to the kitchen to begin nursing her parents who were still unconscious. Percy began muttering a charm to repair all the damages done in the house, a look of rage visible in his features.

"Hagrid, we have to take them to St. Mungo's and we need to go now!" yelled Hermione, shaking with panic.

"We have a Portkey that you can use," Percy told Hermione, pausing his mutterings. "It'll send you all straight to the hospital's lobby." He ran back in the kitchen to get it, and when he came back, he tossed an out-of-date _Witch Weekly_ magazine to Ron who caught it. "I'll have to stay here at the Burrow. I'll contact the Minister and tell him what happened."

Hermione conjured a stretcher for Mr. and Mrs. Weasley while Hagrid cradled Harry and chanted some words of comfort to him. Ron, Hermione, and Ginny gathered around, and they all stood touching the Portkey, and after a moment, the magazine sucked them into oblivion.

* * *

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were being treated in the same room together while Harry was placed in a separate and more secluded ward, both on the same floor. Augustus Pye had assisted the Weasley family once again when he was at the lobby. He had fumbled with his words a moment as if he wasn't expecting the group to arrive with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley in separate stretchers and unconscious. He helped them right away to get checked in rooms. Ron stared at Augustus. He couldn't help but think whether the Healer found it odd to keep seeing his family always in a terrible state, or wondered what they had been doing with their life that they keep coming back to the hospital and always looking unstable.

Harry's screams were the only sound anyone could hear when they arrived at the lobby. The Healers had turned their heads and couldn't believe what they were seeing. For the first time after the war, the Boy-Who-Lived had shown himself but not how they were expecting. Anyone would have thought he would be living his life finally free from harm, but the reality couldn't have been any farther. Harry was instead, looking sickly pale, shaking, gasping for air with pupils dilated, and screaming wildly as excruciating pain hit his whole body.

Hermione shuffled in front of the desk again in the same day, looking breathless. "We need help fast! Harry has been poisoned."

Quite unsurprisingly, the bored-looking blonde witch nearly fell from her seat, momentarily taken aback when he heard the name. "Harry? Are you talking about the Harry Potter?"

"Yes!" snapped Hermione. "He needs help NOW!"

The blonde witch yelped. "Y–yes… right away." She frantically called over some Healers who bustled out of the room a second later, having taken Harry away from Hagrid. The witch then directed the rest of the group to go to the fourth-floor waiting room, but Hagrid disregarded it and followed Harry, parting aside a crowd of protesting Healers.

Inside the waiting room, Hermione started pacing. Ron huddled himself in a corner, silently thinking of what had just occurred. Ginny had her hands together and looked extremely worried. Three Weasley family members had been attacked, and everyone was still trying to figure out what had transpired.

"We have to act now and brew that potion," said Hermione fretfully to Ron and Ginny. "I don't want to think about what the poison could do to Harry even if the Healers can come up with that antidote. His body might not take it with his current sickness, and the poison could trap itself completely."

"The Healers have all sorts of very potent antidotes that could cure mild to rare poisons." Ron asserted to Hermione. "So they must have the one to that poison. We're in a bloody hospital! I'm sure they wouldn't let Harry die just like that."

"I wouldn't want to think that either," said Ginny in a distressed voice. "But Hermione's got a point as well. If they don't completely get rid of the poison, it can pose a graver threat to Harry's other sickness. I'm afraid he might not be able to handle it really well this time."

"That Yaxley!" burst out Ron, his face enraged. "I'll kill that _bastard_ if I ever see him again. I'm sure he and Malfoy were behind all these attacks. We _have_ to confront Malfoy, and the sooner the better. He won't get away with this. I will make _sure_ he goes to Azkaban!"

**To be continued...**

* * *

**Beta-read by KVeronicaP, Chirpo**


	14. Chapter 14

Hagrid remained at Harry's side while he was being treated. He didn't want to leave after seeing Harry's terrible ordeal. He would stay and no one could stop him, not even the Healers who tried to talk him out of staying. They were too afraid to even get near Hagrid or pull him out from the ward. They resigned to just casting him tense and fearful gazes and continued their work.

The Healers had furthermore been muttering to themselves and shaking their heads every so often when doing diagnostic spells. They took Harry's blood to perform some tests to find the poison's source, and Hagrid found it irritating that no one dared to update him on any of Harry's progressions.

Waves of nausea overtook Harry, and he kept doubling over to vomit on the side of his bed. Hagrid rubbed his back and helped him settle back in his pillows, Harry's breathing was becoming laboured and he held on tightly to Hagrid's massive hand.

"Oh, 'Arry." Hagrid caressed Harry's forehead and saw his tear-filled eyes as he tried to look at him without his glasses. Hagrid could tell that Harry was silently communicating with him even through pained expressions. "I'll stay. I won' go anywhere," he said comfortingly and squeezed Harry's hand gently. Harry let another tear escape his eyes.

It was painful to watch the scenes unfold again and again in front of Hagrid. Harry was having trouble breathing properly. The poison would not budge when the Healers tried to give Harry some antidotes. Their effects should have been instantaneous, but Harry continued to dry heave and gasp for air.

"It's goin' ter be okay, Harry," said Hagrid when Harry tried to call his name but failed due to another wave of the poison sending him into uncontrollable jerking movements. Hagrid was trying to be strong for Harry, but he couldn't stop himself from tearing up. He had seen Harry in worse cases but nothing like this, and this was not among the other things he was experiencing with his damaged soul. Hagrid didn't want to wonder how that part would attack Harry. Harry was like a son to him, and he wanted to be there for whatever he was going through. He couldn't bear to see him like this, but he knew Harry long enough to know he was trying to be strong for everybody.

One of the Healers entered the ward carrying a vial of potion in his hand. He examined Harry's diagnostics before nodding and administering the liquid.

"Wha' is that?" Hagrid asked with a frown.

The Healer looked up at Hagrid's huge form. "We firmly believed that the main substance of the poison that was ingested by Mr. Potter is called Angel's Trumpet. It is a plant that contains dangerous levels of poison and may be fatal if ingested - as you can very well see."

The Healer conjured a syringe and a needle. He injected the tip to the arm of Harry who moaned a little when he felt minimal discomfort. "This is a very potent antidote for uncommon and fatal poisons," he continued. "It will prevent further damage to Harry's body and help reverse the poisoning."

"Yer will be able ter get rid of the poison with this?" Hagrid asked desperately.

"We can certainly get rid of the poison, but it will be painful," said the Healer grimly. "It's like regrowing bones. It'll be a rough few days for Mr. Potter."

Hagrid grimaced and shuddered at the thought, knowing how much pain Harry was in already. "Can' he take any ter numb the pain or sleepin' potion, perhaps?"

"I'm afraid not," said the Healer, shaking his head. "The antidote must be carried out alone for it to properly counteract such a particular poison. Once it neutralizes, then we could administer any other means for comfort."

The Healer retreated after that and left Hagrid with Harry who had his eyes shut, his knuckles turning white because his fists clenching and unclenching too much. Harry could tell that the antidote was working its way when he felt stabbing pains all over his body.

Hagrid reached over and put a hand on Harry's arm, sighing deeply. "Harry..." His voice choked horribly.

* * *

Many long hours later, Harry awoke to find Hagrid dozing off at an uncomfortable angle beside him while he lay curled on the bed. He tried to stir slowly so as not to wake Hagrid only to realize that moving slowly was about the only thing he could do with his sore body. Despite his best efforts, Hagrid must have felt his movements and opened his eyes, looking wildly around as though in a panic.

Hagrid saw Harry gazing up at him. "Harry," he said in a low voice.

Harry smiled awkwardly at the tear-soaked face of his friend. "Hey, Hagrid. I'm sorry if I woke you." He sluggishly leaned his back against Hagrid's massive arm.

"It's alrigh'. How're yeh feeling?" asked Hagrid, looking closely at Harry's weakened state.

"Like I was on a full body-bind curse," Harry said dryly. "I feel stiff as a board." He made to move his arm but felt shooting pains all of a sudden. He lowered his arm and tried not moving as much so as not to aggravate it even more.

"I guess tha's the antidote," said Hagrid. "Yer poison'll be gone soon, I expect."

Harry nodded and looked around the room. It wasn't familiar to him. "Are we in St. Mungo's, Hagrid?" he asked, curious. Usually, one room could accommodate at least six patients, but this room seemed to be inclusive only to him. He realized the Healers did him a huge favour, and he was grateful. He wouldn't want other people snooping around anyway.

"Yeah. We decided ter bring yeh here."

Harry furrowed his brows. "We?"

"Yer friends, Harry."

Harry glanced at the door as though expecting Ron, Hermione, and Ginny to walk in any minute, but it didn't creak open as he expected. "Where are they?" he asked.

"In the waitin' room, I reckon," answered Hagrid in a thoughtful voice. "The Healers wouldn't allow visitors."

"But you're here," stated Harry quickly.

"Well," Hagrid cleared his throat, and continued in a matter-of-fact tone, "they had ter make an exception because I ain' leaving yeh, Harry." He wrapped his arm around Harry who gave him a grateful smile before casting his gaze to the tiled floor. Hagrid looked suddenly guilty before adding, "I think I frightened the lot of 'em when I admitted meself here earlier."

Harry whirled his head to look at Hagrid in bewilderment. A small wince escaped him as his neck protested the sudden movement. "Admitted?" he asked. His eyes grew wide when he slowly saw the bandages on Hagrid's arms and chest. "Hagrid, what -"

"I was attacked, you see." Hagrid responded quietly. He retold the story about what happened in the cave, and how he escaped just in time to Apparate to the hospital. "I sent a letter ter Ron an' told 'em where I was."

"But are you okay, Hagrid?" asked Harry in pure concern. "I'm sorry if we caused you so much trouble. We shouldn't have -"

"Am alrigh'," he replied dismissively. "It's yeh I'm worried about. Ron an' Hermione sure gave me a heart attack when I found out about yer soul. I wanted ter come an' see yeh meself… and now I'm 'ere with yeh." Hagrid sniffed and wiped a tear away from his eyes. He looked down at Harry and brought his massive arms around him. "I got the tail hair," he continued with a small smile. "I gave it ter Hermione. You're goin ' ter be okay now, Harry. They'll brew the potion an' you'll be healthy again."

"Thank you, Hagrid," Harry said sincerely while briefly wondering if Ron and Hermione had mentioned to Hagrid that he wasn't the one drinking the potion.

His head snapped up when the door slowly opened, and he saw Ron, Hermione, and Ginny quietly enter the ward.

"Harry!" they whispered together as they rushed to stand around him. Ginny immediately hugged and kissed him. Harry held her hand, and Hagrid beamed at them.

"We're not supposed to be in here right now, but we couldn't wait to see how you're doing, mate," Ron said breathlessly. "So much has happened. You're gonna freak out."

"How are you feeling?" asked Hermione anxiously.

"I think the antidote is doing its job. I feel sore all over, though," said Harry and adjusted himself to a more comfortable position. "Hagrid filled me in on what happened in the Thestral cave."

"Do you think it was Malfoy?" Ron immediately asked. Hermione gave an involuntary sigh. "I've been dying to ask your opinion on it, mate."

Harry didn't pause to think. "No." He thought he saw Ron look at him as though his head had been fatally damaged from the poison and was spouting rubbish.

"You're kidding, right?" Ron asked disbelievingly.

Harry shook his head. "He warned me of the dangers in the cave," he told them. "But whoever attacked Hagrid wasn't Malfoy's doing."

"How can you be sure, Harry?" asked Hermione, pursing her lips. "I'm also suspicious that there were other Death Eaters behind the attack - though I don't think Malfoy was one of them... I'm still uncertain."

"Because I know he wouldn't betray me," said Harry calmly. "He wanted to pay his debt even though that meant he had to talk his way to Mr. Weasley... and had to come to the Burrow to talk to me. I know he did what he came for without any pretenses."

"But aren't you gonna question his motive?" Ron asked a little too eagerly but with a hint of frustration as if he still wanted to prove his point. "I mean, he could just be faking it and setting you up."

Harry shook his head again. "His only motive was to return the favour and nothing else. His obligation to pay his debt is done."

"Are you saying you trust him?" Ron asked uncomfortably, his eyebrows furrowed.

"No, not trust," denied Harry. Noticing his best friend's growing annoyance, he explained quickly. "I'm merely saying that Malfoy is intelligent enough to act upon what he thought was the right thing to do - considering our rivalry."

"Never in the history of my life will I consider Malfoy as a friend, even if what you said is true, mate," said Ron darkly. "He'll forever be a spiteful bully, arrogant, and a spoiled brat. And –" he added before he could stop himself, "He's a coward like his father."

Harry nodded his understanding. "He is," he agreed. "But I stand by what I said… and if for some reason he was only lying to me, then that will only cause him bigger problems. I'm sure he's got a lot on his plate already that adding some more would be the last thing he'd want to happen."

"So you think Yaxley's working on his own?" asked Ginny with burning curiosity.

Before Harry could answer her, the door opened again and Kingsley Shacklebolt walked in, followed closely by Percy and an irate-looking Healer who glowered at all the occupants inside the room.

"What do you all think you're doing?" came the high-pitched voice of the Healer. "Mr. Potter needs his rest, and only two visitors are allowed. Out!" she bellowed at the group gathered around Harry, but the Minister stopped her with a calming hand and said that they needed to be there for interrogation purposes. The Healer sighed in irritation and cursed her way out of the room.

"Harry Potter," rumbled the deep voice of Kingsley. Harry regarded the tall black wizard in front of him with a pained smile before he addressed the rest of the group. "I didn't mean to intrude on this little chat, but I was immediately informed by Mr. Weasley here of what had happened." Percy stood with his head held high when the Minister acknowledged him. Ron rolled his eyes when he noticed.

"We were just discussing it, Minister," informed Hermione.

Kingsley smiled at her. "Please, you don't have to be formal around me. Just call me Kingsley." Everyone relaxed and returned his smile. "Do tell me what happened, if you may," he told Hermione and motioned her to begin.

"Draco Malfoy came to the Weasley house yesterday to talk to Harry. He said he owed Harry his life after Harry saved him. To make it short, he paid his debt by saying where we could find that one ingredient we needed for the potion to mend Harry's soul - in a cave in Ireland. We told Hagrid right away because we thought he could help, too.

"Then this morning," she continued without pause. "Percy suddenly visited the Weasley house. We only knew too late that he was an impostor when Hagrid sent us a letter saying that he was attacked in the cave Malfoy told us about and was being treated here in the hospital. We were about to go back to the Burrow when Healer Augustus Pye told us that Percy was here as well… That's how we found out that someone was impersonating him."

Percy made a hissing sound, causing everyone to glance at him briefly.

Hermione continued again when Percy's head had guiltily suck into his shoulders, "By the time we came home, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were already unconscious on the floor, and the impostor had poisoned Harry. Then he showed his true self and turned out to be Corban Yaxley. He Disapparated shortly after that."

"Where are Molly and Arthur now?" asked Kingsley, stroking his chin.

"They're still unconscious," announced Ginny. "But they've been nursed back in the room across from here."

"I see." Kingsley turned his attention back to Hermione. "When you said 'we only knew too late' that Percy was being impersonated, what do you mean?" he asked, slowly taking his hand from his chin and placing his arms into his sleeves.

Hermione looked regretful for a moment before sighing, "When Percy's impostor saw Harry sick, he asked what happened… and I –" she hesitated, suddenly looking embarrassed. "I told him everything because I thought he was Percy himself."

"Everything, you mean…?"

"How Harry got sick…" she said sadly. "The ingredients for the cure, and about Draco's visit…" Hermione faltered, her eyes welling with tears. "Oh, I messed up so badly," she looked at Harry apologetically. "I'm so sorry."

Harry disregarded it with a weak wave of his hand and said consolingly, "You didn't know, Hermione. No one knew that he wasn't the real Percy. It's not your fault."

Hermione shook her head, her lip trembling. "But he could use that information against you. He could –" but she wasn't able to finish as she burst into tears.

Ron caressed her back and murmured his comfort. "Harry's right, Hermione. It wasn't your fault. We didn't know, too."

"But he may come back and hurt you again or any of us –"

"I will inform the Aurors as soon as I get back, Hermione. I will see to it that Yaxley will be severely reprimanded and put in Azkaban." Kingsley assured her. "I would want to know though, how Yaxley set up these attacks." He turned his attention toward Percy. "Did you notice anything unusual before you were attacked in your office, Percy?"

"No, sir," Percy answered truthfully. "I only remember hearing a voice, but it was faint, and the next thing I knew, I was already at the hospital, and that was when Ron and Ginny found me."

Kingsley crossed his arm, evidently thinking hard. "From your words, I conclude that Yaxley might have planned the attack on the cave in advance. But wasn't he at the Weasley household at the time when you received the letter from Hagrid?"

"Yes," said Ron and Ginny together.

"But how did Yaxley know about the cave?" Kingsley cocked his head to one side to look at them.

"The night when Draco Malfoy told us about the cave," said Hermione. "Ron immediately sent a letter to inform Hagrid who later told us that his owl looked rather roughed up. We were kind of debating whether Ron's owl was intercepted."

"Yes, his owl looked weird las' night when I saw him." Hagrid managed to speak after a long while of being silent. "He looked like he musta been forcefully searched."

Hermione nodded. "We believed that they've read the letter and that's how they knew."

Kingsley turned to Percy again. "Percy, you might want to double-check the protection you had in place at the Burrow," he ordered. "Not only the fireplace. If Yaxley Disapparated inside your house, that means the protection had been breached. For the meantime, I will have a group of Aurors guard your house on a regular schedule."

"Yes, sir," Percy said eagerly.

"As for Draco Malfoy," said Kingsley thoughtfully. "I have my suspicions, but he is under a tracking spell, and he knows about it. We will be able to discover his whereabouts yesterday. Harry, do you suspect that he's working with Yaxley?"

Harry gave his reasons to Kingsley. He told him what he told his friends earlier about what he thought of Malfoy as a traitor.

"As crazy as this sounds," he said, running his fingers through his hair. "I still find it hard to believe that Malfoy would go against me if his only reason for his visit was to pay his debt. Yaxley has allies, but I want to believe that Malfoy isn't a part of it." Kingsley nodded his understanding.

"I am not only saying this because I'm indebted to Mrs. Malfoy," Harry continued. "But I highly doubt that her son would do something that would potentially further their family's already-ruined reputation as of the moment."

"It would be reckless and stupid, yes," agreed Kingsley. "The unwavering decision that the Malfoys negotiated fairly certainly was to switch sides, and we are still under the impression that this strategy that they are carefully planning to achieve is null and suspicious, but –" he cleared his throat and looked straight at Harry who returned the gaze just as equally. "If what you have to say comes to pass and it does make a huge turning point that they were confidently against the dark side now, then I shall reconsider and give them a chance in society. Would you care to present to me your testimony in favour of the Malfoys, Harry?"

Everyone looked at Harry. It was evident that they were all against the Malfoys, and helping them out was not something any of them were willing to do except him. Harry didn't know whether or not his testimonies were enough to convince the Minister, but it was worth a try.

He took a deep, calming breath and started. "The night of the war at Hogwarts, I got captured. Because I told her that her son was alive, Narcissa betrayed Voldemort by saying I was dead. She only did it to find out about her son's well-being discreetly when I was sprawled on the ground. If it weren't for her, Voldemort would probably have killed me for sure. She saved me from him. That alone proved that she never valued her support of Voldemort over her son. I know that she only cared about her family, but it made a huge difference when she lied to him to save me instead."

Kingsley regarded this pensively but didn't say anything.

"Also," continued Harry. "When the battle recommenced, Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy had been seen abandoning the Death Eaters to search for their son. I think their family was reunited in the Great Hall at Hogwarts after the war." Harry trailed off, finished with his testimony and anticipated patiently for Kingsley to say something while the others waited with bated breaths.

"Thank you for your testimony, Harry," said Kingsley. "That greatly changed my perception about the Malfoys, and it did change the course of events, even more so in your life… With that, I will grant them a reprieve and revoke any incarceration in Azkaban. However, I will see them through more rightful retribution for their previous actions. No criminal shall roam freely without justice." Kingsley smiled wickedly at his last statement.

"I knew you'd understand," said Harry, smiling at him.

"Well, it's rare that I get to talk to you, Harry… so I may as well end this conversation on a good note." Kingsley put his hand in his pocket and brought out a small pouch. "This is the piece of the stone that you needed for the potion," he handed it to Harry who blinked his surprise.

"I wasn't expecting you'd have it right now," he said. "Thank you!"

"Anytime, Harry," said Kingsley. "Besides, I'm expecting to see you at the Auror's Headquarters soon and working your butt off. It's about time you show them what you've got, eh?"

"I think we could all agree that Harry had shown enough skill to land a position as the next Head of the Aurors, don't you think Minister?" Hermione proudly said while Harry looked away, blushing slightly.

"I very much agree to that, Ms. Granger. Let's see… I'll see you in the office a week from now then, Mr. Potter – and don't be late!"

"What?" said Harry in surprise, but Kingsley only chuckled and waved to say goodbye as he let himself out of the room.

"That's just it," said Ron, clearly upset. "You don't have to worry about job applications, but I still have to do them. I say take that offer, mate, and then hire me as your assistant, will you?"

At that very moment, the irate-looking Healer came storming back inside the ward the moment the Minister left, shouting, "This boy needs rest for Merlin's sake! Out! OUT!" Even Hagrid was told to leave, and he reluctantly followed the rest of the group. Harry was left alone with nothing to distract him from the stabbing pains creeping back into his entire body.

* * *

The next day, Harry woke suddenly in the sunlit ward and gave a loud yelp of pain; his whole body now felt like it was on fire. He realized that a group of people were standing around his bed and murmuring frantically. For a second, he thought that was what had woken him. He bit his lip when a wave of pain hit him.

"Harry, are you okay?"

Someone slid his glasses to his face, and he could see clearly. He saw his friends along with a familiar round-faced young man. He tried to sit up, but the pain was terrible.

"Neville," Harry whispered with effort, his voice croaked from his dry throat.

Neville seemed to understand the questioning look he received from him. "I didn't know you were admitted here last night until my gran handed me an article about you this morning." Neville showed the _Witch Weekly_ magazine to Harry.

He saw a moving picture of himself being carried by Hagrid in the hospital's lobby. It looked like somebody had managed to take a photo of him while they were waiting to be checked in. The article had a large title that read, _The-Boy-Who-Disappeared Finally Sighted in St. Mungo's Hospital._

"That Skeeter woman!" Hermione said hotly, not looking at the article. By her indignant expression, She had clearly already read the article. "I knew she'd do something like this again!" She sighed heavily, and Harry thought he heard her mutter an oath under her breath about sticking Rita Skeeter inside an unbreakable jar.

"Yeah," said Neville. "I was with my parents, and when I read the article and saw your picture, I came by and checked if it was true." He looked at Harry worriedly. "What happened to you, Harry? You look really sick."

"Poisoned," hissed Harry through clenched teeth.

"Poisoned?" Neville repeated in disbelief.

"Yes," said Ron, looking displeased. "Someone pretended to be my brother and poisoned Harry."

"Did you find out who?"

"Corban Yaxley."

"Isn't he among those Death Eaters who led an assault at the Astronomy Tower?" asked Neville as he glanced thoughtfully at them.

Hermione nodded to Neville. "Yes. I remembered Harry hit him with a Full Body-Bind Curse. He was arrested and taken to Azkaban, but he had broken out a few weeks later. When Voldemort took over the Ministry, Yaxley was made the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement."

"He's really up there," said Ron loathingly. "He's like a part of the inner circle of Death Eaters."

"And this article," piped Hermione, throwing a look of disgust at the magazine. "Now that everyone knows Harry's whereabouts, I would hate to think that Death Eaters like Yaxley will likely charge in here and start attacking the hospital."

"Gran just told me that people have gathered outside of St. Mungo's right now," said Neville, shuddering slightly.

"They're probably here either to interrogate Harry and to know more about his health – or kill him," Ginny stated nervously.

"Yes," Hermione agreed in an irritated voice. "Rita Skeeter clearly mentioned in her article that 'Harry's dying in the arms of a ferocious-looking man'. Seriously, that woman –"

But her final words were drowned out as a different voice echoed throughout the hospital. It was strong, cold, and clear: There was no telling from where it came; it seemed to issue from the walls themselves.

"I know that you are afraid to come out." The voice reverberated around them, and alarm plastered itself on their faces as they whirled around for the source of the sound. "Death Eaters have fought valiantly alongside the Dark Lord. I have great respect and honour toward those who have fallen. Their magical blood had been spilt, but those who remained standing have yet to show the true legacy the Dark Lord had promised to fulfil, yet this was destroyed by the Undesirable No. 1 whom we all know as Harry Potter."

Then silence swallowed them all. Every head turned inside the ward. From the opened door, Harry saw some Healers and patients had stopped in their tracks from the voice.

"To my fellow Death Eaters," continued the unmistakable voice that Harry recognized as Yaxley's. "I urge you to come out and be not afraid, for we will tarnish those who defied the will of the Dark Lord. Let us bond, form once again, and finish what we all have strived to fulfill in this society. We now have the advantage at our hands. It has now been brought to all your attention the whereabouts of our enemy. Join me as we end him once and for all."

Before anyone could speak, they could hear tumultuous movements from outside St. Mungo's. Ron and Neville rushed to the window and cried out that witches and wizards had doubled in number and most of them were trying to get inside the hospital lobby.

"Was this Yaxley's plan all along to bring Harry out in public?" Ginny tried to ask calmly, but she seemed to be repressing her panic inside.

Her question was not answered when Neville spoke with considerable urgency. "Harry has to get out of here now!"

"Could we bring him back to the Burrow?" Ron asked the group, grasping at large pieces of his red hair.

"No," said Ginny, shaking her head and burying her face in her hands. "The Burrow isn't safe right now. Percy and Kingsley have yet to place another protection charm and Aurors around the house."

"Where else could we hide him, then?"

"This is only a suggestion," said Hermione, low and hurried. "Maybe we could ask Bill and Fleur if we could stay at the Shell Cottage!"

"Yeah," said Ron quickly. "We've been there before. They wouldn't mind, I hope. How are we gonna get there, then?"

"Well," mused Ginny frantically, nearly in hysterics. "Harry's not fit to Apparate in there, and Portkeys can be uncomfortable – but that's our only way, and I think we have one at the Burrow."

"Yeah. I know where it's at. I can get it," Ron volunteered, jaw set.

"I'll come with you," said Hermione immediately. "I have to get the Anima book and my beaded bag. The Invisibility cloak is in there, and we have to brew the potion straightaway."

They all nodded.

"I'll keep watch here with Ginny until you both return," Neville bravely told them. "Please hurry!"

"I have to inform mum and dad of our plan as well," said Ginny. "And tell them that we're leaving very soon. I'm sure Percy could look after them."

Neville watched as they left him and Harry alone in the room. He started pacing nervously in front of Harry. Grave silence stretched between them for a few minutes until Neville jumped when the door opened.

Ginny returned followed by Hagrid. They whirled about when they suddenly heard Harry utter a sharp cry of pain and noticed a look of horror in his eyes when he looked at Ginny. Understanding dawned on her features. Her face blanched while the blood drained from her face as she stammered, "Oh, Harry… No – no, not right now –" but her voice was drowned out when Harry's screams began again.

**To be continued...**

* * *

**Beta read by KVeronicaP, Chirpo**


	15. Chapter 15

Ron and Hermione hurried back to St. Mungo's after retrieving everything they would need. They were in pure panic and distress after seeing Harry writhing, and hearing his screams once again, but they had no choice but to Portkey him out of the hospital quickly. The moment their hands snatched at the pair of boots, it sucked their bodies into the unknown until it took them straight to Shell Cottage.

Harry could smell the salty air and hear the sea rushing against rock, but he doubled over in pain and fell to his knees once his feet slammed into the ground. He threw up as dizziness from travelling by Portkey sent fresh waves crashing over him. He dug his fingers into the hard, warm earth as he tried but miserably failed to ease the familiar burning feeling rife in his stomach. He broke down in sobs and swallowed hard. Ginny murmured some words of comfort as he screamed. Hermione cast a spell, and a stretcher materialized in front of her on which she and Ron laid Harry gently.

They ran as carefully as they could with their screaming burden straight to the front door of the Shell Cottage and banged urgently on its surface. Ron's brother, Bill Weasley, opened the door, and his eyes immediately grew wide with wonder. He smiled, but it only lasted a fraction of a second when more screams split the air. His face drained of colour when his eyes fell on Harry and his physical discomfort. He stepped aside and immediately let them in.

Bill's shock reflected clearly on his draining face, overwhelmed by the situation. "What happened?"

Ron settled Harry on the sofa before the stretcher vanished into thin air. Ginny quickly held Harry's hands, while Hermione called out his name and still threw words of comfort.

Ron faced his worried-looking brother and said breathlessly, "Harry's very sick, Bill."

Bill stiffened. "Yes, I can very well see that, Ron. What's wrong with him?"

Harry cried out in agony before Ron could answer his brother with a voice ragged with emotion. "His soul is damaged, and he's dying."

Bill blinked, and his eyes widened as more shock shot across his face. "Wait, what – what do you mean?"

But before Ron could answer his brother again, he whipped his head in Hermione's direction when she called his attention. "Ron, I – I need you to help me pour this – this Healing potion in Harry's mouth." Her voice quivered from being tense. "Harry's too strong… I couldn't hold him still."

Ron was at her side in an instant, positioning himself between her and Harry, and he held his friend's knees to keep them from moving so much. Bill helped as well, pinning Harry's thrashing shoulders to the sofa.

"Didn't we already agree that any potions don't work, Hermione?" asked Ron, his voice sounding sharp.

"I have to try." Hermione's voice broke, revealing a glimpse of the emotion she was struggling to contain. "I can't bear to see him like this! We have to at least try something to make him a little comfortable." She took the lid off of the vial. "Harry?" she tried to call out, but she already knew Harry couldn't hear her from the pain. She held his face and poured the liquid into his mouth. Harry gagged a little but somehow managed to swallow it painfully down to his throat.

At that moment, something large and silver came morphing through the ceiling over Shell Cottage. They all drew a sharp intake of breath, recognizing at once Kingsley Shacklebolt's lynx Patronus. They had seen it at Bill and Fleur's wedding, sent before as a warning.

The lynx landed lightly in the middle of the living room. It opened its mouth wide and spoke in the loud, deep, slow voice of the Minister.

_I heard what happened. Find a safe place. Contact me whenever possible._

"Why would Kingsley send a message here?" Bill queried. "What did he mean by 'he heard what happened'?"

Ron and Hermione shared a knowing look before the latter half raised her head dejectedly toward Bill. "It's for us," she informed him calmly. "We were at St. Mungo's because Harry and your parents were attacked at the Burrow yesterday. Yaxley poisoned Harry, and your parents were stunned."

Bill suddenly looked terrified. "Are you saying mum and dad are in the hospital at this moment?"

"Percy and Hagrid are with them," said Ginny, her eyes sliding over to rest on Bill's face. "I told them we're leaving and that we have to take a Portkey to come here."

"But why did you leave?" Bill asked, looking baffled.

"There was an attack in St. Mungo's -" Ron answered quickly, but Hermione cut him off.

"It wasn't really an attack," she explained reassuringly. "Yaxley cast some sort of Amplifying Charm at St. Mungo's and urged any Death Eaters there to come out from hiding and kill Harry. We suspect he'd somehow projected to other areas of the wizarding world. People are stirred up after learning Harry's whereabouts. They either want him dead or just curious as to why he's sick."

Bill's gaze lingered for a moment on Hermione's face before he asked, "What about Kingsley?"

His sister answered him. "Kingsley was involved because we needed his help mend Harry's soul."

"What kind of help?" he asked slowly.

"We needed a certain ingredient for the potion that we will be brewing, and Kingsley is the only one who has the authority to get it."

"What is it?"

"A piece of the stone from the Veil in the Department of Mysteries," Hermione revealed.

"And did he give it to you yet?" Bill asked softly.

"Yes, it's in my bag right now. He came by the hospital yesterday with the stone when he heard of the attack at the Burrow."

Bill was silent as he seemed to be assessing the situation. Harry continuously writhed on the sofa, his cries echoing around the house. Hermione looked sad, but she wiped the sweat off her forehead and resumed saying comforting words to him.

"How are mum and dad doing at the hospital before you left?" Bill asked his siblings.

"Still a little shaken," said Ginny. "But they're doing well. They told me to go ahead and inform you of what happened as soon as we get here. They'll come by later on."

At that moment, Harry buried his face in the pillow as intense pain hit him again. Ginny could only hold on to his hand as worry and fear paled her face.

"What's happening to him?" Bill asked them in alarm. "You already gave him a Healing potion; how come it's not working?"

"It's unpredictable," Hermione answered truthfully. "Most of the time the potion won't work, but there were times that it would — It's hard to explain… it's like his soul is rejecting all forms of healing and slowly is damaging itself."

"How did he damage his soul?" Bill asked her tentatively. "Is that even possible?"

"It was actually Voldemort who did it. Do you remember the first time we stayed here?"

Bill nodded. "Yeah... I can vividly remember the three of you —" he gestured only at Harry, Ron, and Hermione before continuing, "You were with several others who took refuge here."

Hermione drew a deep breath. "Well, we were hunting -" she hesitated. She lowered her voice to a bare minimum as she spoke the word - "Horcruxes."

"What are those?"

She shivered slightly. "Voldemort hid a fragment of his soul in different objects to attain immortality," she replied, still in a low voice. She went on telling him the rest of what happened.

Bill gaped wordlessly at Hermione.

"Don't worry," assured Ron. "It took us a while to get our head around it when Harry told us."

Bill frowned as he considered the astounding information. His gaze fell on Ginny when she spoke quietly.

"Harry has been communicating with Professor Slughorn. That's how he found out about his soul and the possibility of finding a cure."

"And did he find any cure for this?"

"Yes," said Hermione. She reached inside her beaded bag and took out the Anima book that shimmered as the light inside the cottage hit the pearly cover. "All information on how to mend a soul is in here. The potion I mentioned earlier is here as well, it's part of the process."

"Professor Slughorn had this book with him?" asked Bill holding it with shaky hands after Hermione had handed it over.

"No," she said. "Dumbledore had it in his office. It took a while for Professor Slughorn to get back to us because he had to break the enchantment surrounding the book."

"Enchantment?" Bill looked confused at Hermione. "Why is there -"

"I asked the same thing the moment Slughorn told us," Ron said casually.

"It was Professor Dumbledore's plan to cast an enchantment to hide the book," said Hermione.

"But why hide it?"

Ron shrugged. "Your guess is as good as ours."

"Because the book talks about fragmenting souls," answered Hermione simply.

"But still... fragmenting a soul is unheard of anyway, much less a Horcrux... how can that —" Bill's own lack of comprehension appeared to be flustering him. He gave a sigh. "Did Dumbledore know Harry would suffer from a damaged soul sooner or later?"

"We don't know... but it's possible."

"Bill, where's Fleur?" Ginny suddenly asked when she looked around.

"She went back to France to visit her parents. She'll be there for a few weeks."

Silence hung around them. Harry had calmed down a little, but he still winced at the pain every now and then.

"Are we going to send back a reply to Kingsley?" asked Ron who sat down on a chair beside Harry.

"I say, you settle in first before contacting him," Bill advised, standing up. "Too much has happened. You are all still a bit shaken." He flicked his wand, and goblets whirled about gracefully toward him and landed with soft clinks on the table. They immediately filled themselves with butterbeer.

They drank silently and talked a few more hours after that until the sun had set. They moved Harry to the room where Mr. Ollivander had once occupied before. It was on the ground floor, facing the cliff-top garden and the grave of Dobby. It was easy access to get to Harry if need be.

The strong wind gusted against the window as Bill and Ron laid Harry in bed. Ginny closed the window when she saw Harry shiver and moan in pain. Harry still twisted and turned but not as violently as earlier. They could see his sweat trickling down his face which twisted into a pained expression. Ginny and Hermione sat on both of his sides.

"You can use the rooms upstairs," Bill told them.

"We don't really mind sharing the same room with Harry," Ron said to his brother. "We have to check him from time to time anyway."

"But there's not much room in here to sleep in," Bill protested.

"We'll manage," said Hermione with a grateful smile. "We could sleep in the living room if we really have to."

* * *

Compared to the crowded and lively streets of Diagon Alley, where pair of eyes were able to take in all the sights the alley had to offer, Knockturn Alley looked completely gloomy and deserted as the night shifted. Unusual, sinister, and sometimes dangerous individuals walked around, behaving fairly suspiciously in this area where numerous shops devoted to the Dark Arts sold many types of dark objects, trinkets, and even suspicious-looking furniture.

Hurrying up the street alone was Draco Malfoy who was peering left and right as though cautiously assessing his surroundings. A funny prickling on the back of his neck had made him feel as though he were being watched, but the street appeared to be deserted. He scurried along and glanced around when he finally reached his destination. He wore a curious expression mingled with resentment and fear when he entered.

Draco stood in what looked like a small pub. It had irregular ceiling heights, and ducking under them would be the best way to avoid getting a bump on the head. The room also had dirty wingback chairs and plain tables that were scattered around. Candles burned in brackets beside each table, illuminating the wood-panelled walls. A few old wizards sat on stools, their faces blank and uncaring as they puffed smoke from their pipes.

Draco adjusted his coat as he walked toward the very back of the room, having spotted someone in a dark hood sitting in a corner. One would think that the young man was meeting his grandfather, for his face was timeworn and wrinkled. His eyes were blood-flecked for his old age and hair as white as winter. His eyes glinted, and he produced a wicked smirk when Draco sat in front of him.

"Draco," regarded the old man quietly as he studied the silver-haired boy seated across from him.

Draco nodded. "Yaxley," he acknowledged.

The two sat silently scrutinizing each other's faces and appearances before Yaxley started to speak; his voice was weak, yet Draco could hear malice overflowing behind every word he said, even though he was disguised as an old man.

"How's mommy and daddy?"

Draco simply shrugged his shoulders and kept his mouth shut.

"I heard your family are switching sides and are helping the Ministry by giving out names; is that true?" Yaxley leaned back comfortably in his chair, his eyes fixed on Draco who gave an effort to look nothing but bored.

"Yes," he answered dully.

"And you? Are you willing to work with them?" Yaxley pronounced the last word firmly while curling his lip.

There was an underlying threat in the older man's words that frightened Draco, but he only laughed it off. "What kind of idiot do you take me for? You don't know what I'm capable of." He sent a glowering look at Yaxley before lowering his gaze onto the table.

But Yaxley narrowed his eyes at him, looking suspicious. "I heard you helped the Potter boy."

Draco jerked his head up.

"I bet you were surprised to know how I found out, didn't you?" Yaxley drawled. "But no matter… I'd already enforced an attack on that giant on his way to the cave." The look in his eyes sent shivers to the silver-haired boy, but Yaxley's expression changed from cold apathy to confusion when Draco grinned and laughed.

"What's so funny, boy?" he asked in irritation.

Draco gave an exaggerated sigh. "You think I don't know what I'm doing?" he asked. It was his turn to give Yaxley a cold stare. "I'm trying to help you here — You could at least show some appreciation."

"Don't you dare mock me, boy!" Yaxley snarled, bringing down his fists hard on the table. "You were not part of the plan —"

"But you used my idea to your advantage!" Draco said through gritted teeth, determined not to let Yaxley get to him. "I think I've a right to have a say on this matter. That giant oaf deserved what he got. I bet you don't know what to do next, do you?"

Yaxley's brows lowered darkly, and his eyes glittered with rage. "Your family is now considered traitorous," he said fiercely. "You think I don't know you have a tracking spell put on you? You could be putting me at risk by selling me out! What made you think that I can trust you? You can never convince me with your ill words and actions."

"You can say whatever you want against my family, Yaxley," Draco said in a lazy voice. "Yes, the Ministry put a tracking spell on me as part of my probation, but —" He looked directly at the old man in front of him who made clicking noises with his tongue to show his disappointment. "I'd cast another charm on me so I wouldn't be detected for at least a few hours. That would be enough time for our friendly chat, wouldn't it? You can even check if I _did_ cast a charm to suit yourself." He stood up and waited for Yaxley to bring out his wand, but he only cocked his head to one side, not moving in his seat. Draco sat back down. "No one is gonna come here to arrest you."

"You have too much confidence in yourself," sneered Yaxley.

"Of course, I do," Draco said darkly. "That's how I was brought up."

Yaxley leered at him. "So much likeness to Potter, however."

"Don't you dare compare me to that half-blood filth!" hissed Draco, his temper growing.

A snigger slipped through Yaxley's teeth. "That Potter boy is brave... but he and that blood-traitor family lacked wit and shrewdness. It was so easy to attack them."

Draco gave a questioning look at him. "That piqued my curiosity," he said, interested. "Care to explain how you did it?"

Yaxley scrutinized Draco, gazing at him long and hard. His eyes blazed with an uncomfortable intensity. He crossed his arms when he finally spoke. "That Arthur Weasley had stupidly been talking loudly to his son Percy."

Draco swallowed back the urge to snort. "Wouldn't be the first time," he muttered under his breath.

Yaxley continued, "I was on a disguise at the Atrium, and I heard one of them mention the Potter boy's name. I remembered Dolores Umbridge had files against the redhead family for supporting the boy, so I'm sure they were talking about him. I heard he was ill, but I didn't hear any more than that after the father ran off quickly.

"Since I have large stocks of Polyjuice potion, it didn't take long for me to transform into Percy Weasley after easily obtaining a piece of his hair," Yaxley's blue eyes met Draco's steel gaze. "I had the opportunity up my sleeve. The Weasleys think that after the war they're allowed to be lax with their security -" he gave an empty chuckle. "They're mistaken, of course."

Draco frowned.

"I found a file regarding registered fireplaces in Percy's office, and it told me exactly where they lived..." Yaxley went on. "I can easily manipulate the protection, but I have to be discreet, of course. I took my time observing the house from afar until I saw an owl suddenly fly out of the window."

"An owl?"

"Yeah... imagine my surprise when I read the letter and found out about a certain cave," said Yaxley, his eyes roaming back to Draco, regarding him lazily with a stare that burned like ice and fire at the same time. "The next day I sought out the son in his office once again and simply stunned him to reduce my risk of being discovered while I plan on going to their hovel. I took a piece of his hair for my Polyjuice potion, of course. But personally, I just like to hurt the Weasleys... that's why I did it, I guess," he said in a chuckle. "You don't know how gratified and excited I was when I stepped foot inside their hut... and the first person I saw was Potter in his 'not-so-good' state."

Draco cleared his throat but remained quiet.

"They were just so easily fooled," Yaxley said in a menacing voice. "And that Granger girl just couldn't keep her mouth shut. She went on and on about everything that had happened. It was so fitting to my needs and perfect, I tell you."

Draco watched Yaxley with a bemused expression when he took out a copy of the _Witch Weekly_ magazine, turning to the page where a large picture of a very ill Harry Potter in the arms of Hagrid could be seen. He shoved it in front of Draco who stared at the page.

"I haven't read any article from Rita Skeeter for quite a while. Was she part of your little plan? Did you ask her to write this?"

"I don't really have to talk to her to do my bidding," said Yaxley coolly. "She just knows when and where to get a really good story. I like her."

"So, Potter's in St. Mungo's because you attacked him?"

"Yes... I poisoned him," Yaxley replied with a smug look on his face. "It's funny to realize that just a few drops of poison would cause them to scramble about. But Potter's screams –" he closed his eyes and he gave a wicked smile.

"I bet you loved that, didn't you?" Draco asked with a look of disgust.

"Oh, yes! I've been waiting to take my revenge, and this is only just the beginning, boy. Now the world knows what state their young hero is in. I reckon you know he is dying?" Yaxley asked, grinning wildly.

Draco didn't answer him but instead, he asked, "Is Potter still in the hospital?"

"No," said Yaxley. "He disappeared when he couldn't handle the pressure of people wanting him so badly, especially the likes of the Death Eaters, but that's okay. We have a plan set for him."

Draco had an inkling of what Yaxley was alluding to. "Is that the reason you want to talk to me? Am I part of your plan now?"

Yaxley smirked at him. "That sounds so transactional, but... yes you are... unless of course you want to hide with your precious mommy and daddy," he taunted. "If you truly want to have your family's reputation back, why not join us and finish what the Dark Lord has started. Isn't that what you wanted in the first place when you joined the ranks of Death Eaters?" His eyes fastened upon Draco's grey ones with such an intensity that the younger man looked away after nodding his agreement.

Yaxley's lips curved into a smile. "Good... very good," he said pleasantly. "You have always proven yourself worthy of your title as a pureblood, and I have regarded that as worthy of honour. I am glad that you have not truly lost your way, unlike your parents."

"If you wish me to join you, then leave my mother and father out of this!" said Draco in a cold voice. "I make my own choice, and my parents have nothing to do with it."

"Such bravery…" muttered Yaxley. "I rather missed that. I haven't seen it for such a long time. I wonder why you were always reluctant to participate in Death Eater activities…" He leaned forward to stare at Draco, his dark eyes glinting. "Your loyalty didn't really lie with the Dark Lord, perhaps?"

"You have no right to question my loyalties to the Dark Lord!" spat Draco. "I carried out his tasks successfully — and brought death to Dumbledore."

"No, you didn't," said Yaxley, his smirk back on his old-looking face. "You were too afraid to kill him, so Snape saved your neck by killing Dumbledore himself. You only did a partial on the task when you brought that Vanishing Cabinet into Hogwarts so we could finish off the job for you. You are such a cunning little boy, and I must say, you truly belong in Slytherin for slithering away most of the time."

Draco threw him a filthy look. "I do not slither away!" he said with clenched teeth.

Yaxley stabbed a finger in his direction. "Then prove it!" he snarled.

Draco's anger at Yaxley continued to pound through his veins like venom, but he had to control his temper and find out what Yaxley wanted him to do. "What's your plan, then?"

Yaxley looked at him contemptuously, and then his lip curled. "We kill Potter, of course."

"Are you even serious right now? I've heard that part many times," said Draco coldly. "You poisoned him — but why didn't you just let him die then and there?"

"Where's the fun on that if I killed him?" Yaxley scoffed. "It would be too easy."

"How do you plan on killing him then if you don't even know where he is?" Draco's grey eyes fixed unblinkingly upon Yaxley, dislike etched in every line of his face. At that moment, two wizards in black cloaks entered the pub. They made their way to Yaxley, regarding him silently as they got closed.

One of them reported at once, his voice sharp. "We've checked around the Weasley house, but we saw no sign of him. We only just managed to flee there before we saw Aurors close in on the area."

Draco shifted in his seat, looking away from them.

"What about St. Mungo's?" Yaxley asked with a frown.

The other wizard spoke with a deep voice. "The blood-traitors are in there with Percy Weasley and the giant, but we didn't see any more of him inside the building. After you made that announcement, sources say one Healer saw two of his friends hurrying along the hallway, holding a pair of boots. They went inside his ward. She said she heard faint screams of pains from Potter before the noises disappeared. We believe that they Portkeyed themselves out of there."

Yaxley smirked, and Draco saw malice flare up in his eyes. "Is that so?" The two wizards nodded. "Very well." He gestured to them to leave.

Draco stared at the two retreating forms. He hadn't seen them before, and he suspected that maybe they were Yaxley's new recruits.

"That could easily be checked into," Yaxley muttered to himself.

"How many Death Eaters do you have now?" asked Draco, bringing Yaxley back out of his reverie. "Are those your new recruits?"

"Yes," he said quietly. "We're less than twenty in number at the moment. I know there are still many followers out there that are too afraid to show themselves. I feel sorry for them. They believed that a new and rightful society would be born, only for it to be trampled by someone who is not even worthy to be a part of this world. We were given hope — a chance to better the supremacy of our magical blood — but it was taken away from us. You do want a chance for a better world, don't you?"

Draco lowered his head. He was raised to strongly believe in the importance of blood purity. His family was proud of it, and because of that, they maintained a respectable public image while being allied with the Dark Lord. _If only Potter didn't make friends with that Weasel they could have been doing great things together and he could've known more and understood more about who the real superiors are in the wizarding world,_ he thought to himself. A regret formed in his mind which he thought could've been easily fixed if only the blood traitors hadn't been too friendly with him in the first place. He wondered how Potter would've treated him then. Would they have been best friends? Would he have also followed in line with the old pureblood beliefs? Would he have become a Death Eater and worked beside the Dark Lord? There were so many possibilities of what could have happened, but it was too late now. Potter had ruined everything ever since he'd begun to consort with the mudbloods, and he was stuck here dealing with all these messes.

"I do," he said after a while.

Yaxley peered down at him, his teeth bared. "Then, we shall make a short visit to one of the blood traitor redheads."

"Who?" Draco asked curiously.

"George Weasley."

**To be continued...**

* * *

**Beta-read by KVeronicaP, Chirpo**


	16. Chapter 16

Molly and Arthur Apparated to Shell Cottage after they were cleared by the nurse at St. Mungo's Hospital. They were followed by Percy and Hagrid who had been talking to the Minister.

The Minister himself rushed to the hospital when he heard about the commotion created by Yaxley, and he immediately dispatched Aurors who patrolled the building, searching for Death Eaters who could still be casing the hospital in disguise.

After all the work, the three Weasleys and Hagrid went straight to the cottage to catch up on some rest, but they were immediately assaulted by the sound of Harry's screams. Bill, who had been looking over Harry took them straight to Harry's room where they stayed for the better part of the night.

The occupants were nowhere near relaxed and in good spirits when Harry double over in bed, screaming again and again; his eyes were bloodshot and puffy from crying, he was panting for what felt like long hours, his throat had gone dry and soar and his hands had turned numb. He was bone-tired and just about ready to give up.

"No more… please…" cried Harry. He writhed in pain, clenching and unclenching his jaw. From the corner of his mouth came a trickle of blood. He must have bitten down hard on his tongue. Molly desperately wanted to help but didn't know how to. How much more could his body handle before it gave out altogether?

Harry's friends had already administered several Healing potions and Calming Draughts, but they couldn't give him more for fear of overdose or the potentially harmful side effects of each potion.

Dawn had broken over the horizon, and the bright rays emanating from the gold rim of the dazzling sun cascaded towards the opened windows of Shell Cottage. Waves crashed against the shore, creating a smooth and soft sound, but it was shattered as cries of pleading and screams of pain echoed around the house once more. Ron, Hermione, and Ginny, along with the others were sleep-deprived, as they battled their exhaustion in helping to bring comfort to their ill friend. They had sent an owl to Professor Slughorn updating him on Harry's condition.

Slughorn had decided to come down to Shell Cottage and start brewing the potion straight away as they had already gathered all of the ingredients.

Harry felt his consciousness pulling away. He fought hard to try and stay awake. Even with his vision blurred, Harry could make out the faint silhouette of Dobby's grave and he wished that the loyal elf could be here with them before he closed his eyes, and sleep claimed him.

Mrs. Weasley reached for the blanket draped at the foot of Harry's bed and wrapped Harry it around him. She tentatively sat down beside him and looked at her husband whose arms were crossed over his chest, eyes looking far away at the corner. The same could be said about Hagrid who hadn't spoken a single word. His eyes misted over, and he stared wistfully ahead, lost in his own thoughts.

"How did all this happen?" she whispered in an anxious voice, looking uncomfortable. "The attack at the Burrow..."

Arthur sighed. He looked up and saw the exhausted face of his wife. Percy was standing beside the bed, most certainly thinking and asking the same question in his mind when Arthur spoke to him. "Back at St. Mungo's, you told us that you were attacked in your office." Percy nodded.

Arthur continued, "And then after that, the impostor went to the Burrow…" He added, muttering thoughtfully, "but how could he have known that Harry was there and broken past our wards?"

"Did you remember telling anybody else?" asked Molly, watching her husband closely.

"I don't think I did," he answered, his brow furrowed in concentration as he tried to recall. "I mean, I ran into you." He gestured to Percy. "And I told you that Harry was sick."

Percy nodded again. "Yeah, I remember. You were in a hurry that day."

"Yes... and then, later on, you asked me if Harry was in the hospital, and I said no; he's at the Burrow—"

"No—what? Wait," Percy held up his hand in confusion, trying to stop his father's train of thought. "I didn't ask you that."

Arthur frowned at him. "Yes you did, son. When I came back to the office, remember?"

But Percy shook his head. "No, I didn't. What are you talking about? I didn't see you come back. When did that happen?"

"The next day after, we talked at the Atrium," Arthur reminded him.

"But I wasn't in the Ministry at the time," his son replied. "I was out doing my fireplace inspections."

Molly gasped as realization struck. She shot a frightened look at her husband. "I think it wasn't our son who asked you where Harry was, Arthur. I think it was Yaxley disguised as Percy."

Blood suddenly drained from Arthur's face. He cursed under his breath. "We cannot stay at the Burrow unless Yaxley is caught... or else we'll all be vulnerable." An expression of genuine sorrow took over his features, and he added with a resigned tone, "I'm so sorry." He buried his face in his hands out of shame.

Molly gently laid a comforting hand on her husband's shoulder. "It's okay, dear. At least we still have this cottage." She thought of all the things she so badly wanted to whisper to him. "Don't worry, we'll work this out. We always do."

Arthur shifted his weight and looked at her. "I should have been more cautious about who I was talking to. I can't bear the thought of any harm befalling us on my account." His eyes glistened with unshed tears. Molly could see the strong wave of emotion hit him, and she hated to see him so defeated.

"But you didn't know that it wasn't our Percy." Molly reasoned with a tender voice. Her sad brown eyes flickered up to meet his. "We were attacked, yes, but we're all safe now and that's what matters."

Arthur shuffled his feet, avoiding eye contact. "It could have been worse," he said in a low voice.

A sudden knock startled everyone inside except Ron, Hermione, and Ginny who ran up to open the front door. They had been expecting Slughorn to come around at this time, they knew it was him the moment they heard the knock. As safe house Secret-Keeper, Bill had given him permission to enter Shell Cottage.

Horace Slughorn stood calmly outside, carrying an empty cauldron with brewing equipment inside that made clanking noises whenever he moved his hands.

"Professor," called Hermione. Ron reached over his hands to help Slughorn with the cauldron and set it on top of the dining table where the rest of the ingredients were, along with the Anima book.

Slughorn peered sadly at the people in front of him as they closed the door behind him. Slughorn was informed once again of the state Harry was in as the Weasleys filled him in, and he couldn't express how deeply distressed he was by the terrible news. As soon as he saw Harry lying listlessly on the bed, concern flooded his face. He covered it quickly with feigned cheerfulness. Molly could see from Slughorn's expression his guilt and his intense desire to help Harry.

"I brought several other potions that I'm hoping will help Harry get through the day." He took out one vial of a purple coloured potion he had been carrying. "I brewed this draught in my lab last night. It is a very powerful healing potion that I dearly hope will help Harry in the meantime. If this doesn't help, then I don't know what will." Ginny took the vial from him and ran to Harry's room. Slughorn set the stacks of potion bottles on the table.

"Now," he said. "The potion that we're about to brew will only take around one hour, but—" He held out a finger when he saw Ron sighing in relief. "Constant stirring, and the number of times you have to do it—plus the way you do it **—** varies with each ingredient. One stirring mistake will immediately ruin everything."

Ron gulped. "I've ruined potions in class with Snape too many times." He added with a whisper in Hermione's ear, "I'm glad that I won't be the one brewing this potion for Harry or else he would've died in vain, waiting for eternity for a potion that will never come."

Hermione rolled her eyes at him, remembering all the brewing disasters that he has orchestrated. "Would you like me to help you with brewing the potion, Professor?" she offered.

Slughorn smiled. "I would usually gladly take you up on your offer, Ms. Granger, but as this is a very complicated and advanced potion, I should do the brewing myself."

Hermione looked somewhat offended, but she nodded her head in understanding.

Slughorn grabbed the Anima book and opened it to the right page. His face remained calm and composed as he read the instructions. He nodded with understanding and began taking out the things inside the cauldron and lining them neatly on the table in front of him. Ron and Hermione settled themselves on the chairs, watching their professor do the work. Bill would occasionally walk by to see what was going on. Even Ginny, who was worried at the rate at which Harry was losing energy checked up on Slughorn from time to time.

* * *

The fumes of the potion wafted inside the cottage. Slughorn had managed to add three ingredients successfully with the right stirring method for almost an hour and would now need Harry's blood to complete the process. Ron, Hermione, and Ginny went quickly to Harry's room.

The adults looked up from their positions at his bedside. "How's the potion?" Mrs. Weasley asked them.

"It's nearly complete," said Ginny with a smile. "We only need Harry's blood, and then it's done."

Hermione looked uncertainly at them before taking out a small knife from her bag. She gently grabbed Harry's hand who stirred. "Harry," she said softly. He slowly opened his eyes. "I have to draw some blood from you, okay? It's gonna sting a bit." Harry curtly nodded and looked away. With bated breath, Hermione made a small cut in his finger and blood quickly trickled out, she took a vial and let a few drops in before casting a Healing charm.

She ran back to the kitchen, the adults following behind her. Slughorn was finishing the last stirs when Hermione handed him the vial of Harry's blood. He poured a few drops inside the cauldron. The greyish liquid turned into silver the moment the blood made contact with its surface. It bubbled slightly as it thickened. The people inside the cottage waited silently as they watched Slughorn quicken his pace for the final stirs unlike with the other three ingredients. Ron, Hermione, and Ginny exchanged excited and nervous looks when Slughorn finally said, "It's ready."

Ginny hurriedly went to retrieve three goblets and set them on the table with shaking hands.

Mrs. Weasley eyed her daughter peculiarly. "Why did you grab so many goblets, Ginny?" she asked. "You only need one for Harry."

Ron, Hermione, and Ginny looked at her with dread. No one seemed to want to explain the matter to someone like Mrs. Weasley.

Trembling, Ginny said nervously, "It—it's for us, mum."

With a face clouded by confusion and the slightest hint of apprehension, Mrs. Weasley asked, "What—what do you mean?"

"The potion is for us, Mrs. Weasley," said Hermione, looking terrified. "It's what it said in the book. The one attempting to mend Harry's soul has to drink it."

Mr. Weasley frowned. "That's very odd. Are you sure that's the right instruction?"

"It's true," Slughorn said calmly. "Only those very close to Harry can attempt to perform the mending."

"And does drinking the potion guarantee to save a soul, then?" Mr. Weasley asked him.

"No. They have to cast the spell provided in the book to start the process."

"How do we know it'll be successful once started?" Bill queried suddenly.

"We don't," replied Slughorn, and when Bill's face fell, he went on, "The book states that it would be better to have more people close to Harry attempting it—as to why it requires more, I don't know... but it will be apparent if the ritual were successful."

"What happens during the ritual?" Hermione asked curiously. She had not read that part from the book yet, and it was already sending shivers down her spine from sheer anticipation.

"It says here that once the potion has been drunk and the spell has been cast by the single one who attempts it, their soul will enter the afflicted person's body, rendering both unconscious until the ritual has been completed. During this time, the ritual must not be interrupted or else it will fail."

"What happens if it fails?" asked Percy.

It suddenly became deathly silent inside the house and only the sound of the waves crashing against the rocks could be heard. No one made a move, not even Slughorn who looked as though that one question was the only thing that he was trying to avoid answering.

With a swift jerk of her hand, Mrs. Weasley reached for the book before anyone could react. Everyone's faces slackened, and their mouths formed the petrified shape of an 'o'. As her eyes darted back and forth and the book grew closer and closer to her nose, her hand flew to her chest, and she suddenly towered over the three teens in front of her who felt strangely small. Mrs. Weasley's well-known temper often arrived before reason and left only after the damage was done. Today would be no exception.

"Did you know about this?" she asked with a deadly voice, glaring at Ron, Hermione, and Ginny.

"What is it, Molly?" Mr. Weasley asked quickly. "What did it say?"

"It says that if they fail to fix Harry's soul, they will suffer the same fate as him," she answered with a quivering voice.

Gasps slipped from Bill and Percy. Mr. Weasley stiffened, totally paralyzed with disbelief. His mouth dropped half-open. He was clearly stunned and at a loss for anything to say.

"We couldn't tell any of you," said Ron.

Mrs. Weasley gave an exasperated sigh. "How could you not?" she asked hotly.

"Because that's exactly how you guys would react," Ginny admitted. "We wouldn't be able to mend Harry's soul if everyone were against it."

Mrs. Weasley turned her fierce look at the professor. "You knew about this too, don't you Horace? You knew all along and you never even told us?"

Slughorn appeared to be unperturbed by her outburst. "That is the terrible risks that come with saving a soul," he muttered sadly. "I'm sorry."

"That is preposterous!" yelled Mr. Weasley. His eyes flashed with grief and righteous indignation. The Weasley children looked at their father, terrified, having rarely seen him lose his temper. "That is the most ridiculous and reckless thing I've ever heard!"

"There must be another way to mend Harry's soul!" Mrs. Weasley said with defiance.

Slughorn shook his head. "No, Molly."

"How could you know that?" spat Mr. Weasley.

"I don't," said Slughorn calmly. "But I'm putting my trust in Dumbledore's judgement. He must've known something like this would occur, so he made his best effort to find a solution for this problem—this is the only way."

"I highly doubt that!" Mrs. Weasley bristled at the words.

"By all means," said Slughorn, his voice quiet and measured but somehow carrying an intensity that was chilling. "Go ahead and look for another solution… I would gladly help if you manage to find any, but please bear in mind that we don't have much time to save Harry."

"But this is just absurd!" Mr. Weasley fumed. "I have protected my children, saved them from harm and done my best to make sure they're safe. And now—" He couldn't finish his sentence, evidently out of the anger and frustration that showed in his face. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, and when he opened them again, he saw Slughorn staring at him.

"Arthur," said Slughorn, "whatever happens, I want you to know—"

"Don't," Arthur told him. "Just don't."

The minutes passed by in silence. The tension in the air was thick and filled with terrifying sorrow.

"Mum... Dad," Ginny finally said, breaking the overpowering silence. "I know it hurts you both that we're putting our lives at risk, but that's just it—it's our lives. I don't think that any of us would still be here if Harry hadn't risked his life for us as well."

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley didn't say a word—didn't even look at her—so Ron took it upon himself to say more on the matter. "I second that. Harry has always risked his life for our well-being without asking for anything in return. It wasn't his fault that his soul was damaged. He didn't ask for it to happen."

"I only ask that you trust us," said Ginny softly.

"I do, but I just…" Mrs. Weasley looked to be on the verge of tears. Mr. Weasley walked over and wrapped his arms around his wife. In the next second, she was sobbing her heart out in his shoulder. "I'm just s-s-so worried. P-P-Percy was attacked… the B-B-Burrow isn't safe anymore… and then this..."

"Yes," Mr. Weasley whispered sadly into her, caressing her back. "But we need to trust them. I know they're more than capable." The moment Mrs. Weasley was done crying, eyes dry once more, she saw Harry standing against the doorway of his room, pain and sorrow visible in the way he carried himself, exhaustion evident on his face; bags painted garishly under his eyes, face twisted up in a pained grimace.

"Harry, what are you doing out of bed?" she asked in surprise, narrowing her eyes at him accusingly. Everyone looked up at him. "You shouldn't be walking around. You're too weak." They all approached him.

Harry felt a deep well of sadness inside him. "I'm sorry," he stated with a low, hoarse voice. Hagrid had been behind him, holding his back so he wouldn't lose his balance. Harry was still trembling, and his breathing was laboured. Mrs. Weasley's expression softened. "I didn't mean for any of this to happen," he continued. "I don't want to put your lives in any danger because of me." He tried to walk towards them slowly, but every step took so much effort, and his energy was running thin, causing him to lean against Hagrid for support. "I am so sorry."

He felt his heart pounding fiercely in his chest as he closed his eyes. Quite suddenly, several arms wrapped themselves around him, giving him the much-needed comfort to carry on. He heard sniffs and muffled cries. Harry slowly opened his tired eyes and saw Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, their faces full of hurt and sorrow. and yet they held so much warmth and solicitude. They were like the family he wished he had. No words could describe their compassion. They didn't have to say what was on their minds, a moment like this was all he needed. They had understood him and his sufferings in life, and they had given him so much to make his life meaningful to assert that his life wasn't a waste, that he deserved a wonderful life despite all the things that had been happening.

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley let go of him, and Ginny put her arms around him next, hugging him tightly. Harry never realized just how much he needed the comfort that only she could give. "It's alright, Harry," she murmured while caressing his back gently. "You're gonna be okay."

Harry listened to her voice. He had never heard her talk like this to anyone but him and he smiled gratefully. He knew she was doing everything she could think of to make him feel at ease. He felt himself letting go of all the frustrations and pain as hot tears fell from his face. He was exhausted—knew he needed rest, but he clung to Ginny even more, burying his face in her warm and comforting arms. He had lost his source of comfort at the age of one. Seventeen years later, he had found it again in the young woman he loved and who loved him, too.

Still clinging helplessly to Ginny, Harry painfully shuffled back to his room. The rest of the Weasleys, Hagrid, and Hermione didn't follow, recognizing the fact that they needed space.

Harry sat in bed, leaned his back against the headboard and raised his head sadly to look at Ginny who sat beside him looking weary. Her face was paler than he had ever seen before and there were circles under her bright brown eyes. Her lips were pressed into a hard line. She looked forlorn, consumed by her grief, but she tried to hide it with a smile directed at him. He had no idea how to break the silence. He had no idea what to say, only that he wanted to spend as much time with her as he could.

"This may sound terrible, but I—I'm starting to... forget," he began in a weak voice. "There were moments when I didn't know where I was... who my friends were—" His voice broke, and he shuddered with anguish when he spoke the next words, "or who I was."

Ginny looked up at him slowly. Harry felt a cold lump of dread rise in his throat when she regarded him with a hesitant gaze that confirmed his situation. "I've noticed when we were at the Burrow," she said. "But it's not gonna get any worse now that Slughorn has brewed the potion. You'll get better, Harry."

He could sense that she was clutching desperately to any hope, however slim. He lowered his gaze to his hands. "Just now, I had no recollection of what has been happening to me... I don't know why I feel pain all over my body—why I'm sick." He struggled to keep his voice even. His eyelashes pricked wet with tears, but he brushed them away. "Mrs. Weasley was hovering in front of me and I couldn't even tell who she was—" He felt as if all the air had been sucked out of the room. Panic began to rise inside him.

Ginny scooted closer to him, and she flung her comforting arms around his shoulders, giving him a tight embrace. "Shhh..." She rubbed Harry's back. "You'll be okay."

Harry's mouth was a tight line, and he was fighting hard to control his painful emotions. "I'm scared. I don't want to forget—" His voice almost broke. He swallowed hard. "I'm sorry, Ginny."

She settled her gaze into his brilliant green eyes. "You don't have to apologize, Harry. I understand what's happening."

"I couldn't tell you how—how awful it was not to recognize you... or about us... I'm really sorry."

She looked away from him. "I know... I've seen how you look at me sometimes... as if you have truly never seen me before. I can't say that it doesn't frighten me."

Harry knew what she meant. "I'm so sorry," he muttered.

Ginny glanced back at him. "It's okay."

He gave her an apologetic look before asking, "Do they know?"

"Who?"

"Ron and Hermione. Have they seen me lose my memory?" He found himself terrified of her answer. A long pause stretched between them, and he waited with increasing dread for Ginny to speak.

"We all have..." she answered in a quiet voice. "Even mum and dad."

"I'm sorry," said Harry, turning his gaze upward in frustration. "I wish there was something I could do."

"There's nothing for you to be sorry about, Harry. You don't have to be worried about us. We all know what has been going on with you. It's—it's the reality that we just have to face ourselves, even if it's something we aren't expecting, you know."

Harry found Ginny's face and took it in his hands. She had kept her composure well, but her eyes were wet with tears, and when he touched her cheeks, he realized he had been crying silently, too.

"I can't stop thinking about the attack at the Burrow..." he said thoughtfully. It sickened him when he thought of what happened—of what Yaxley had done. "I wasn't able to protect your parents. You must've hated me for it." Both shame and guilt pressed on his chest. "I couldn't bear the fact that they were hurt fighting to protect me instead, and it was already too late for me to do anything else when he sent curses after curses—" He felt suffocated, reliving the scene in his mind. "I—I should've protected—" He couldn't take the terrifying regret and miserable emotion gripping him inside. His heart was pounding painfully. He trembled and felt light-headed. He held on tightly to Ginny who rubbed circles on his back for comfort.

"I don't hate you, Harry. I would never do that. Besides, my parents are here and well," she consoled him with a tearful gaze. "Nothing too bad happened to them, and I'm grateful."

Harry took a shuddering breath and sadly shook his head. "I could've done something. I feel so useless. Weak. I don't want any more deaths on my head. I can't live with that." He looked at Ginny with pain in his eyes. "This sickness—"

"Shhh... my parents are well. Don't think about it anymore. Let's just focus on what we've got right here and now. You're strong enough to fight this, and we're here for you. Will you do that? Fight for me?"

Harry gave a distant smile. "I'll try, Ginny."

"That's more like it." Ginny kissed the top of his head, and her arms held him close.

"But I want you to do something for me." Harry's eyes seemed brighter than usual. He was on the verge of tears. "If things don't work out the way we hope..." But the rest of the sentence disappeared in his choked throat.

"What is it, Harry?" she asked in an anxious voice.

"I know you're all doing everything you can to help me survive... but if I don't make it—"

"Don't say that." Her voice broke. "I don't want to hear it."

"I'm sorry, but I have to, Ginny. It already feels like I'm on the brink of—" He hesitated and took a deep breath. "I don't know how long I've got. We'll never know when it'll happen."

"We have the cure!" she exclaimed. Tears poured down her soft cheeks. "It's going to work—I know it will."

Harry gazed at her for a lasting moment, not saying anything. He reached over to touch her cheeks and brought his lips to meet hers. At that moment, there was nothing that could have lifted their spirits more. Harry knew his battles with his sickness weren't over yet, and he had to endure more suffering, but the thought of having someone care deeply for him—love him—was all he needed to stay strong. Right now, he didn't care that his future was uncertain and that everything could slip away in a heartbeat, for now, nothing was more important than being with her—with Ginny.

"I love you," he said simply, stating an unassailable fact. There was plenty more he could have said, but in that moment, it was all he needed to say. It was all that mattered. He didn't know how long the feeling of being utterly at ease would last, but he knew he wanted to savour it.

"I love you more, Harry."

For the first time in weeks, the worried lines Harry had seen in Ginny's forehead disappeared. At least for now, she looked happy.

**To be continued...**

* * *

**Beta-read by** **Multi fandom geekerello, KVeronicaP**


	17. Chapter 17

After spending some time with Ginny in his room that afternoon, Harry insisted that he wanted to spend more time with Ron and Hermione even when the potion had already been brewed and waiting for them to begin the possible cure. He knew it was stupid delaying it, but what would happen if the ritual failed and he had missed the opportunity to speak with his friends? He didn't want to regret that, so after a few hesitations and head shakes from the adults, they finally gave in after Harry promised to let his friends know if he wasn't feeling okay as soon as possible. Outside the cottage, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny sat and huddled beside Dobby's grave.

Ron and Hermione flopped down beside Harry, and Ginny sat on the other side of Harry. The youngest Weasley covered Harry with blankets for warmth while he laid his gaze on the large, weathered stone covering the place where the elf's body now rested. Etched in the small memorial were the words: HERE LIES DOBBY, A FREE ELF. A small part of the mound was already covered with flowers, and seeing this made Harry realize for the hundredth time that he had laid Dobby to rest in such a beautiful and peaceful place. _I wish you were here with us, Dobby,_ he thought dismally.

The month of June overcompensated for the rainy days of April and May by blessing England with plenty of warm sunshine. Harry looked up at the sky and listened to the loud yet soothing sound of the sea crashing against the cliff, sending thousands of small water droplets ricocheting off of sharp rocks creating sea spray and launching the sentimental aroma of saltwater in the air. But the relaxing and warm feeling the waves provided for him were soon forgotten as he silently clenched his teeth, trying to soften the blow of yet another bolt of pain shooting through his body. He dismissed the feeling, not wanting to alarm his friends.

However, Ginny perceptively noticed the pained expression he briefly wore. "Are you alright, Harry?" she asked disconcertedly. Ron and Hermione turned their attention to him and looked at Harry with apprehension.

Harry took a deep breath and sighed. "I feel pain from time to time," he said trepidatiously, reluctant to admit this to his friends in fear of their distressed reactions. "But I'm fine!" he added quickly, trying to form a weak smile at them to ease their worries slightly.

Ron surveyed him carefully, trying to analyze him to look for any red lights indicating that he wasn't okay. "Are you sure, mate? We could just stay in your room. You would most likely feel more comfortable there than here."

Harry shook his head. "I'm sure," he told them resolutely. He ran his hand over Dobby's grave. "I want to spend some time with him, too," he added quietly.

The topic of Dobby and his death that he was veering towards caused his hand to tremble. He wondered when the pain of losing someone so dear to his heart would leave him. If it did at all, how much would change in his life without their memories circling around his mind, plaguing and benefiting it at the same time? This summoned anxious thoughts. Losing someone was devastating, and he knew that first-hand. Thinking about it, he couldn't help but wonder if it hurts to die. He thought he had experienced death the night Voldemort cast the Killing Curse on him—yet he survived. This time, however, death had been haunting him everywhere—even in his sleep.

Ron, Hermione, and Ginny seemed to have had no objection to Harry's adamant statement, so they decided to let it go. Harry scooted closer to his girlfriend, letting her head rest against his chest. The warmth radiating from her body made him feel comforted enough to stay where he was.

"I miss Dobby." Hermione suddenly voiced, as if reading Harry's mind. "He was such a brave house-elf, who is always willing to put himself in dangerous situations when he knew it was the only right thing to do."

"I remember he used to call me Wheezy," Ron commented as he chuckled quietly. "I wasn't aware of what he meant by it at first."

"He was a good friend," Harry whispered as if trying not to disturb Dobby's peaceful, eternal rest. The other three nodded in agreement.

"You're right, Harry," Hermione agreed, musing as she stared at Dobby's grave. "He was extremely devoted to you." She glanced in Harry's direction and continued, "I think Dobby thought of you as his best friend." Harry smiled. He certainly hoped that were true.

Ron laughed loudly. "His way of showing devotion was really uncanny. Remember when he hurt and injured Harry only because he wanted to save him?"

Harry bowed his head. "I had already forgiven Dobby. I told him not to save me again if he could." He responded in a low and miserable tone. "Yet he did... and because of me he's not here." He became lost in his own private grief and swallowed hard.

"Stop it," Ginny told him sternly. "Stop blaming yourself—it wasn't your fault. If someone is to blame, it is Bellatrix Lestrange." She placed her hand on his shoulder and squeezed it, making Harry wince inconspicuously.

"I completely respect Dobby," Ron declared. "He saved us."

"Dobby had his ways of helping people," Hermione agreed fervently, trying to be optimistic but finding it difficult. "Even though most of the time it was not what we expected, he was always loyal and such a hard worker."

"Yeah," Harry concurred. He then looked up and glanced at his friends as he shook off the devastating memories of Dobby swarming his mind only moments before. "Like you three."

Ron, Hermione, and Ginny glanced at him with raised eyebrows. Harry had been looking for the perfect time to talk to them—to tell them how he felt for each of them, and it came upon him that now was the best time to do so before they began the ritual—before anything else—before it was too late.

"Not all people are lucky enough to have such strong friendship," Harry began, his eyes glazed with thoughtfulness as he gazed at the colossal waves pummeling onto the rocky shore. "I used to never have friends. Dudley would always tease me for being a freak and I endured it for the first eleven years of my life. When I got my letter from Hogwarts, I never had the desire to socialize—I mean, I thought, who would want to be friends with me, anyway?" He stole a glance in Ron's direction and smiled. "Not until you showed up at the barrier of Platform Nine and Three-Quarters and then again in my compartment on the train."

"Um... yeah, I remember that," Ron said sheepishly, his ears turning as red as his ginger hair. "All the compartments were full and yours wasn't. You looked really lonely. Looking back now, I would think that you wouldn't have let me in, considering the way you seemed to isolate yourself."

Harry chuckled. "Sorry, I didn't mean to make myself look that way. I was completely overwhelmed about everything in the Wizarding World, not knowing a single thing about spells or History of Magic facts—I was just thrown in this world looking like an idiot, to be honest."

Ron smirked as memories of the first months of his friendship with Harry came flooding back to him. "Yeah... it was a pity that you knew absolutely nothing at the time... but look at you now!" He brandished his hand up and down in front of Harry's face, a look of pride plastered on Ron's countenance. "Savior of the Wizarding World! The-Boy-Who-Lived! The Chosen One! Teenager-Who-Killed-Voldemort!"

Harry's face quickly grew red at Ron's proud declaration. "No. I mean, yes, I am a teenager who killed Voldemort, but I honestly wouldn't have been able to do most of the 'saving stuff' without you. You're a lot stronger than people give you credit for. If you hadn't disturbed me that first day on the train, I wouldn't be here. I'd probably still have been stuck trying to move past the life-sized chessboard from our first year or expelled from Hogwarts for not showing up for our second year since Dobby sealed the entrance to Platform 9 and 3/4."

"Blimey! The memories of the flying car and the Whomping Willow that broke my wand—plus Hagrid's bloody spiders…" Ron shuddered visibly. Hermione and Ginny laughed. "I was so relieved we got out of the forest. I'll never do it again, I swear!"

"Yeah… or else you'd have peed your pants," Harry taunted, grinning.

"Haven't I told you that I almost did?" Ron said over the girls' laughter agitatedly as though that piece of information was essential for everyone to be aware of.

Harry also burst out laughing, accompanying Hermione and Ginny at Ron's revelation, ignoring the next wave of pain that hit his body.

With a shuddering breath, Harry then turned his attention to his other best friend. "And you, Hermione…" Hermione took a deep breath before he continued, "Without you, I wouldn't be aware of my recklessness. You've kept me on the right track the whole way."

It was her turn to blush, but she quickly replaced it with an eye roll and a glare. "I knew you needed a sister even though your first thought of me was stuck-up and arrogant."

Harry let his jaw drop, taken aback. "What? Are you sure that was me and not _Ron_?"

"Hey!" Ron cried in defense. "She was only referring to you, Harry. Don't drag me into this." He looked at him sharply before sending him a playful smirk.

"But!" Frustrated with their squabbling, Hermione talked over them. "Without me, you and Ron would not only potentially fail in both life-threatening, but also everyday situations."

Harry and Ron couldn't hide their embarrassment after realizing the truth behind her words.

"You're right as always, Hermione. You are truly a sister that I would ask for any day," Harry conceded as Ron huffed in agreement. "You stood by me most of the time when Ron couldn't—"

"Hey!" Ron yelped with indignation. "You wouldn't consider me your best friend if I wasn't on your side most of the time, mate," he said crossly, feeling affronted. He jutted his chin and sent his nose into the air.

"That's true," Harry agreed. His tone then quickly changed into an annoyed one. "Except the time when you doubted me for putting my name in the Goblet of Fire while Hermione accepted my side of the story without question. You waited until after the First Task to talk to me. What a git you were!"

Ron's jaw hung open. "That's not fair!" he retorted angrily. "I realized how badly I had misjudged the situation and I said I was sorry." He sighed with exasperation.

Hermione and Ginny giggled at the two boys.

"I know," Harry replied reassuringly, grinning from ear to ear. "I was just giving you a hard time, Ron." He eyed his best friend apologetically.

"Oh, I see…" Ron said, his voice deadly serious. "Well then, I'm gonna give you a hard time with my sister," he threatened.

Ginny elbowed Ron and shot him a nasty glare. "You better not think about it, Ronald Weasley, or else I would give you a hard time with Hermione!" She quickly cast a repentant look at her. She merely laughed.

"I'm your brother!" Ron spat, disgruntled. "I have every right to—"

"Oh, stop with that nonsense!" his sister interrupted, using the same commanding tone as her mother. Harry and Hermione roared with laughter.

"But seriously, Ron…" Harry looked up at him, his eyes glowing with sincerity. "There is nothing I value more than my friendship with you. Thank you for sticking by my side. I've found a true friend in you... and I hope in twenty years or something we'll be able to look back at our past together and just be so happy we had such a close and meaningful friendship that led to so many great adventures. You are truly the best friend I've ever had. I mean that with all my heart."

"You're only saying that because you're afraid of what I'm planning to do with you for going out with my sister," Ron said suspiciously, his eyes gleaming under the sun. Ginny glared at him.

Harry gulped mockingly before nodding in agreement. "Yeah, you could say that." He grinned nervously at him, but Ron smiled back in approval.

Startling them all, Hermione burst into tears.

Ron immediately turned to her worriedly. "There's nothing to cry about!" he quickly told her, bewildered as to why she was hysterical in the first place.

"I'm just—" The warm hug that Hermione enveloped her friends in expressed her feelings more accurately than any sentence could.

"Let Harry breathe," Ron told Hermione, smiling. She sat back down and wiped away her tears.

"Thanks, Hermione." She looked up at Harry at the mention of her name. "You really are an incredible friend. You always tell me that I am the strongest and bravest person you know, and say that you admire my courage for taking risks and starting from nothing, but I have this strength you rave about because of you. _You_ are the brave one. I've never in my whole life been so lucky and proud to have a sister figure like you. Even when all I can see is the worst in me, and even when I make mistakes, you still see my best attributes. You remind me of who I truly am even when I am too blind and hopeless to see it, and I am so grateful for that. Our journeys have become intertwined—through them, we've been through so much, but we've always supported each other, and we've grown immensely from where we've started. I wouldn't have it any other way."

Hermione was bawling now, unable to wipe away her uncontrollable tears as they streamed down her cheeks, making her eyes red and puffy.

"Barking mad," Ron said, shocked and incredulous at Hermione's swell of emotions. "Look what you did, Harry," he observed while shaking his head and wrapping his arm around her, finally giving in and embracing her whole shaking form.

After a few hugs, Hermione slowly regained her composure. She gave Harry a knowing look. "I know what you're doing, Harry—why you're being sentimental," she sniffled softly.

Harry just shrugged and gazed at them. He had gained a million memories, a thousand inside jokes, a hundred shared secrets, from only one source: the close bonds created by friendship. Ron and Hermione were the two people who were able to lend a helping hand every time he needed one. Even when he pulled the strangest stunts or had the weirdest ideas in life, they had supported, cared, and loved him. No matter what obstacles had been thrown in their path or how many other people had tried to tear their friendship apart, they had stood the test of time. But now, he felt suffocated; he couldn't stop trembling. He didn't want to leave them. He was afraid to die, no matter how much he denied it. He wanted to grow old with them by his side, to spend years enjoying life's endless roller coaster ride, never knowing when it would finally come to a stop. But his knowledge that his time was coming soon drained him of any strength left to carry on. With his illness, he was clinging to each second, fearing that each breath was his last.

Sadness laced Harry's words when he spoke. "I'm afraid to think that I won't get another time like this to tell you both how much I appreciate you. I don't want to pass up this chance to truly express myself before it's too late."

"It's never gonna be too late, Harry," Hermione affirmed comfortingly. She reached over and patted his arm. "You will have all the time in the world to tell us how you feel. You will experience so much more, and we will make sure that you do because you're going to live to see so many more days with so many more chances to express how you feel about anything any time—and we'll want to be with you on those days too, Harry."

Harry wanted badly to believe her, but what if Hermione was wrong this time? And there was certainly no guarantee that he'd be fine. The truth was, he didn't know what was going to happen once his friends drank the potion.

Before anyone realized it, Harry broke down and cried as he let all the pain from the past weeks come out in muffled sobs. Ginny tightened her hold on Harry's hand while he released all the pent-up emotions that had created a tight knot inside of him until the cries dissipated into sniffles. He looked back at Ron, Hermione, and Ginny, his eyes red and puffy and his heart overflowing with pure love and understanding. He tried to picture his life with his friends when this was all behind them. _They're right,_ he thought optimistically. _I would overcome this, and spend the rest of my life surrounded by the people who cared about me most. This is just the beginning. I would vow to give all of my faith to each of them and hope for the best._

They talked, shared memories, laughed and cried for the rest of the hour. Harry felt the wind brushing lightly on his face and tenderly ruffling his hair as he looked up at the darkening sky, peace and contentment flowing through him.

He lowered his gaze and saw his friends looking up at him as though they had finally reached an understanding. He nodded at them and they nodded back as if silently telling him that they were ready.

The salty air had already clung to their skin when Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny bid their goodbyes to Dobby. With the help of Harry's friends, he slowly trudged back to the cottage, the four bringing with them a renewed hope to see another day with nothing but good wishes and dreams for a better life.

* * *

Everyone at the dining table appeared casual, but the air was heavy with tension. They all only focused their attention on the food on their plates, even Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. Harry felt it was slightly unusual for the pair to eat without talking. Their countenances were expressionless, but he understood why and should've expected for them to react this way. Everyone was delved in deep thought, fearfully wondering about what would come. For several long minutes, Harry still couldn't bring himself to speak. He was positive that every person's thoughts were identical—lingering on the possible outcomes of the potion and the ritual. They had one goal for that evening; to begin the process of mending his soul. But no one wanted to talk about the subject; the subject that could cost all four teenagers their lives. The silence was deafening and only an occasional cough from Harry would jolt everyone back to reality, making it painfully aware to them that they were still at the table eating.

Harry resorted to drinking an Invigoration Draught to get through the rest of the evening. Their strained faces and his worrisome thoughts on what was to come caused his appetite to dissipate completely. Outside, a fierce wind began to blow, rattling the window panes. Harry closed his eyes, trying to fight off the severe nausea. He winced and his brows furrowed tightly with pain when a throbbing headache began to develop. He rested his head in his hands, and rubbed circles on his temples, trying to ease the unbearable suffering, but it didn't help. His chest then began to heave involuntarily, as every intake of air felt like he was inhaling fire. He began to feel extremely nervous. This was it—his last straw of survival felt like it was being pulled away from his weak grip. Harry had lost all motivation and hope, feeling as though there was no point in fighting for his life. He had been doomed from the beginning. Fate had let him come this far, teased him with the dream of a fresh start, and then snatched it all away. He felt as if he had to realize and accept that this was how his story was meant to conclude. He was too exhausted to be angry, or to fight off the pain. If his life was going to end, at least he was in a place he loved, surrounded by people he adored. With acceptance came a numb peace. All he wished for now was the oblivion of sleep.

He realized they must've noticed his pained stupor when most of the people at the table started calling his name.

"Harry!"

"Harry?"

"Harry, are you okay?" The last was Ginny's soft voice he had heard. She shook him gently.

"I'm fine," Harry whispered as he lifted his head, his hoarse voice cracking.

She peered at him closely. "You don't look fine. Do you want to lie down in bed?"

Harry didn't want to be rude and excuse himself from the table while everyone was supposedly still helping themselves with food, but the word "bed" sounded comforting, and he desperately needed rest. He silently gave Ginny a small nod. Everyone around him had stopped eating as Harry cast them an apologetic look, noticing their worried glances. Hagrid immediately offered to carry him back to his bed, but Harry declined the offer.

"Could you just help me walk, Hagrid?" he asked weakly. He felt ridiculous knowing that he could barely even walk, but he wanted to if this was his last. He concentrated hard and managed to haul himself onto his knees, but it still took colossal effort before he made it to his feet.

"Slowly," Ginny cautioned him. "One step at a time."

Harry followed her advice and waited cautiously for a moment before taking a step forward. He was as wobbly as a toddler taking his first hesitant, tentative steps. He finally made his way to his room, spurred and motivated only by the thought of his bed waiting for him. Ron, Hermione, and Ginny trailed behind them. Hagrid had taken his elbow.

On the way to his room, however, Harry noticed that Hagrid was very quiet, and he concluded that it only meant that he might be trying to suppress some sort of strong emotions inside him from fear of letting them out. Harry hugged the giant tightly. At first, Hagrid looked relieved to see him, but by the time they reached Harry's bed, Hagrid broke down into loud and messy sobs. He desperately tried to wipe his tears away and regain his composure, but the tears relentlessly kept on pouring out, as if all of his bottled emotions flowed with them at once.

"Hagrid." Harry placed a gentle hand on his massive arm.

"S-s-sorry," Hagrid stuttered as he sobbed, taking out a large, spotted handkerchief and burying his face in the cloth. "But I c-c-can't stand it—yer gettin' weaker an' weaker—" Ron, Hermione, and Ginny stood around Harry's bed, solemnity overwhelming them.

Harry gingerly patted his arm. "I'll be okay, Hagrid."

"I know," came Hagrid's muffled voice through the handkerchief as he wiped the tears cascading down his face. He gently picked Harry up in his warm and comforting arms, and, together, they sat down on the bed. "I have faith in yer friends, Harry. I know ev'rythin' will be okay. It's just—yer have bin like a son ter me—"

Everyone smiled as their eyes started to glisten with tears of their own at his statement. Harry tightened their embrace. "And you've been like a father to me, Hagrid. You were the first wizard I ever met and were ever so kind as to introduce me to the Wizarding World. You've looked out for me and helped me through countless difficult situations." He looked up at Hagrid straight in the eye with his own brilliant green eyes. "If it wasn't for you, Hagrid, I would be such a different person... so I couldn't thank you enough."

Hagrid feigned a smile, but his face quickly morphed into one of graveness as his eyes grew wet with tears yet again. Harry's heart broke at the sight of the giant filled with so much fear and pain that it emanated from him and shone in his glistening eyes. He had never seen such raw affliction in Hagrid's countenance before, apart from the time when he thought Harry had been killed in the Forbidden Forest. From the first moment they met, Harry had always known him as an incredibly warm, kind-hearted man, and a very sensitive person who could burst into tears at any form of bad news despite what his large form and looks might falsely convey. Harry didn't know how to comfort him, but he stayed by his side until he calmed down. He heard Hermione and Ginny's sniffles from behind Hagrid.

"Yer have bin in so much ordeal already, Harry," Hagrid gurgled through his sobs. "I couldn' even count how many times yer've bin at the Hospital Wing. Yer was either unconscious, healin' from a broken bone, or recoverin' from fallin' off yer broomstick."

Harry felt his cheeks go red as he leaned into Hagrid's massive arms. Everything that he said was true. As much as he wanted to keep himself out of trouble, he could never avoid it no matter how hard he tried; during his adventures filled with peril, he had felt like a human magnet, attracting potential dangers at every turn.

"An' now this," Hagrid continued, looking down at him. "I don' know how ya handle it. Ya usually go back ter bein' healthy after a couple o' days of restin', but this time it's different. I feel like I'm goin' ter lose yer any minute. I don' wan' ter relive that time again when I have ter carry yer in my arms an' ye'r dead. I don' want that, Harry."

Everyone knew what Hagrid was talking about; they had witnessed Harry sacrificing himself to stop Voldemort at the battle at Hogwarts. Hagrid carrying Harry's lifeless body out of the Forbidden forest was the most horrible sights they had seen. Everyone was positive that he was dead. There had been anguished cries that echoed throughout Hogwarts as grief took hold of those who had seen Harry's lifeless body. It had been as though they had lost all hope in the world. Harry knew it was wrong to think that he was close to giving up—though he felt he had already given up, but seeing their faces... their deep sorrow...

Harry sighed sadly and patted Hagrid's arm. "It's not going to happen again, Hagrid. Yes... this is different, and I'm really scared, but I have to assure myself that everything's going to be okay. I want you to think that, too—for my sake." He held on to his massive hand and looked directly into his eyes. "Can you do that for me, Hagrid?"

Hagrid continued to wail loudly but acknowledged Harry with a nod.

"Don't worry, Hagrid." Hermione's voice came from beside him. "We're going to do our best. I mean, when did we not?" She gave an encouraging smile.

"Yeah," Ron agreed, peering at him behind Hermione and grinning. "When have I ever failed in life?" He added sarcastically.

With that pronouncement, Hermione turned to Ron, her face full of concern. "That doesn't really boost my confidence, Ron."

"Geez… I'm just trying to diffuse the tension," he replied with a slightly sad smirk. "All this crying and drama is making me weak."

Hermione elbowed him in the ribs. "Oh, I forgot how tactful and insensitive you are. Just you wait, Ronald. If we fail in this attempt—"

"Is that going to happen?" Ron interrupted suddenly, wearing a look of genuine horror on his face.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I don't know what we're gonna be dealing with once we cast this spell, so you might want to prepare yourself in case you lose your tact and insensitivity."

Ron gulped and stared at her fearfully.

"Good luck to you three," Slughorn wished them, entering Harry's bedroom. Everyone inside Shell Cottage had gathered near the door, behind him. "And I hope that you all can get through this."

The rest of the Weasley family made their way slowly to Ron and Ginny. They hugged as they gave their youngest son and only daughter some words of comfort, as well as Hermione who stood a few feet away.

"You can do this; you just have to believe in yourselves," Mr. Weasley started slowly and gently. Mrs. Weasley nodded her agreement, her eyes filled with tears. "We trust you both and Hermione. We have faith in all of you no matter what." They kissed their children and Hermione on their foreheads.

They made their way to Harry and reached out their arms to pull him in an embrace, Hagrid amongst them. No words were needed for their warmth and love to be expressed. Being enveloped in this moment with them—the two people he considered as his own parents—was enough for Harry. He felt tears spring into his eyes, his emotions fully taking over due to their overwhelming love; something he had never experienced with his actual family. "Thank you," he sincerely whispered. They let go of him and bent down to kiss his forehead.

While Harry, Mr. Weasley and Mrs. Weasley were sharing this emotional, tender moment, Slughorn had gone to retrieve the potion resting on the dining table while Ron, Hermione, and Ginny stood around Harry's bed. The embrace having broken up, they glanced nervously at each other, fidgeting with their hands, not knowing exactly what to say next.

Harry cleared his throat and addressed them. "I just want to briefly say thank you for everything. I don't know what will happen after this, but I want you all to know how proud I am of you guys. We'll live to see another day, right?" he asked, remembering the half-futile promise for the future from earlier that day. Despite the looks of concern on their faces, Harry couldn't stop smiling. He felt incredibly lucky to have his family by his side.

Together, the four of them embraced, aware that Slughorn had returned with three cups in his hands. Ron, Hermione, and Ginny each gently took one.

"You all have to drink that potion and enunciate the words in this spell once and all together while directing your wands to Harry—" He raised the Anima book he brought to their eye level so they could read the incantation 'ēmendā eum animum'. Ron, Hermione, and Ginny nodded their understanding.

They clinked their cups together and raised them up high, mumbling, "To Harry!"

With final looks at each other, they placed the cups to their lips with trembling fingers and drank the potion. All three of them coughed as the bitter taste sloshed down their throats. With nervous yet determined looks, they slowly raised their wands to Harry and declared, "ēmendā eum animum!"

As soon as the words left their mouths, a silver light burst from their wands, encasing the three of them in a leaden glow before it zoomed straight to Harry's body and disappeared. Harry, who was sitting up in bed with the help of Hagrid, went limp the moment the light hit him.

Every occupant inside the room was briefly paralyzed with shock. Without warning, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny also suddenly went limp and fell with a thud on the floor, unconscious.

**To be continued...**

* * *

**Beta-read by Smthnborrowediamblue, a-potato-forever, SunkissedCinnamon, KVeronicaP**


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A friendly reminder before you start reading: If you haven't read Chapters 1-17, please do so first before continuing, because everything written in this chapter will not make sense if you haven't. Thank you!

**CHAPTER 18**

"Hey, Ron!"

Ron Weasley groaned. He could feel someone shaking him and calling his name. Even though he pulled the blankets over his head, the voice persisted, and he forced himself to surface from the warm, shadowy depths of sleep.

"Wake up, sleepyhead!"

Ron opened his eyes. The morning light filtered through the large windows of his dormitory like warm liquid gold, forcing his unadjusted eyes to blink several times. He squinted, sat up, and rubbed his face, trying to use his hands to shield himself from the powerful rays of the sun that had snuck in and tried to blind him. The cozy and welcoming feel of his bed was so tempting that he groaned again when he realized that he had important tasks to complete that day. One of his classmates stood at the foot of the warm, comforting paradise luring him to return to its embrace of down comforters and fluffy pillows.

"What time is it?" Ron asked groggily.

"Time you woke up."

He pushed back the covers reluctantly, swung his legs over the soft mattress, and shuffled to the bathroom to get changed, cursing along the way. After a few minutes of dressing, he returned to find his dormitory empty. He yawned as he walked through the large, round doors that marked the entrance to the common room.

The Hufflepuff common room was large, earthy, and circular with low ceilings. Potted plants hung from the ceiling and rested on ledges around the room, some even singing and dancing. Cozy yellow and black patterns adorned the comfortable sofas and chairs, each further marked with the Hufflepuff emblem. Through the gothic windows, an endless field of dandelions created a picturesque scene that reflected the kind, peaceful nature of the Hufflepuff students as the sea of green rippled like a pond with the early morning breeze sweeping by.

Ron was immediately spotted by a tall and extremely handsome, dark-haired student with bright grey eyes sparkling with a vivacious energy. He was resting beside the fireplace with a huge grin plastered on his face after seeing his ginger-haired friend. "Hey, Ron!" he called out to him from where he sat.

"Cedric," Ron greeted with a tired yawn, sitting down across from him.

"It's early in the morning **—**... What's up with that look on your face?" Cedric Diggory asked him curiously when he saw Ron lean back on the chair, scowling. "Let me guess, you're still thinking about how to make the Hogwarts championship for the Triwizard tournament, aren't you?"

When Ron looked away to ignore him, he continued. "You know very well why Professor Dumbledore chose you. You're the best student in Hufflepuff, and all you need to do is to compete with the other houses' representatives and win before becoming a champion, that's all. Other magical schools must've done the same before the Triwizard Tournament."

"You make it sound like it's so bloody easy," Ron moaned sulkily.

"Because it is!" Cedric exclaimed to encouraged his unexcited friend. "Besides, this is your chance to prove to your family that you have a strong work ethic! And that's the reason why they've chosen you as the Hufflepuff representative. You've proven yourself, despite your family's ongoing complaints. If you win this challenge, I bet they'd reconsider and be proud that you were sorted into this house. They'd just have to."

Ron gave him a long, hard look, and silently pondered for a moment. Cedric made a good point. If he did win the House challenge and became the Hogwarts champion, it would be a surefire way for his family to recognize the true value of Hufflepuff—most especially if he was involved in the reason. He wanted to win and change his parent's perception of the house. It was true that he was the only Weasley who had been sorted into Hufflepuff, thus deteriorating his relationship with his family. They, despite their banter before he got sorted, had been so tight-knit and loving that he wanted more than anything to regain the close relationship he'd had with them before. They'd known one another's strengths and flaws, and they'd accepted each other regardless of quirks. Nevertheless, all that changed because of one thing: they felt he defied their Gryffindor tradition.

"I hope so," Ron replied after a while, but his sulkiness persisted when he thought of the other three students with whom he would be competing. "But there's my sister Ginny in Gryffindor, and I'm sure she'll never let me win. I can't believe the Gryffindors chose her as their representative. _Argh_!" Ron heaved an angry sigh. "Why do I always have to compete with my family? This is so frustrating! My parents'll definitely root for her."

Cedric gave him a sympathetic look. "Don't push yourself too hard," he comforted him. "It'll work out fine; you'll see! I mean, it's not _that_ bad, competing with your sister—"

"You don't know what it's like to have a sibling, Cedric. You never had one—" Ron knew he had crossed the line the moment he said it, but Cedric merely blinked at him, unperturbed by the insult. Ron brushed away the awkwardness that lingered for a moment and continued. "And who said I'm only competing with my sister? I also have to deal with Granger from Ravenclaw and that Potter from Slytherin!"

Cedric raised his eyebrows and suppressed a laugh. "Yeah, that's true. I can't deny that I don't like the wit of that Harry Potter. I can never stomach the way he treated the others outside of his house... Most especially—" He hesitated for a second. "You do know he thinks of you as a blood traitor, and that is kinda harsh." He patted Ron's shoulder gently. "I'm sorry that you have to go through this."

Ron inhaled deeply, his fists clenching. "Just the idea of that Potter competing with me is enough to boil my blood. I don't care if he's a Pureblood or if he's intelligent beyond his years. He'd better not ruin this chance for me."

Cedric smirked. "That's the spirit," he encouraged his friend. "I knew you hadn't lost that spark in you yet. Come on, let's go down to the Great Hall and have some breakfast. I'm starving." He stood up and trudged to the door leading to the rest of the colossal, magical school, Ron following closely behind.

* * *

Hermione Granger, meanwhile, sat with her fellow Ravenclaws in the Great Hall, busy reading a clip from _The Daily Prophet_. The day after Professor Dumbledore had announced the four representatives of each Hogwarts House, owls had flocked the school, carrying newspapers and eagerly dropping them down to their owners. Hermione had been one of those receivers. She unfolded the newspaper and scanned it between her hands; there it was—as expected—her name printed in bold letters along with the other three competitors. A pair of voices behind her, however, interrupted her before she could even read the rest of the article.

"In all honesty," said a snotty voice so familiar to Hermione that she wanted to conjure earmuffs or cast a Silencing charm for maintaining her peace. "I really don't think they stand a chance for this challenge."

Draco Malfoy sniggered beside his best friend. "Oh, I bet, Harry. I can already tell who'll be chosen as the Hogwarts champion."

"I can't believe Dumbledore would let a Mudblood and blood traitors compete with me." Hermione was sure that they had seen her, for Harry's snide remark must have been just for her to hear when they passed by.

Hermione clenched her teeth and sent him a quick glare as they sat down at the Slytherin table. Fuming, she finished half of her glass of pumpkin juice in one gulp and resumed her reading, even though her concentration had already been ruined.

"They're being snarky again, aren't they?" a distantly concerned-looking Luna Lovegood asked in her usual dreamy tone. She sat across from Hermione, meaning she could very well see Harry and Draco laughing with their fellow classmates.

Hermione slammed her glass down on the table, spilling some of its contents. "Immature, that's what they are," she retorted with a snarl. "His parents must be so proud to have a son as conceited and arrogant as him."

"If only his parents weren't close to the Malfoys and the Lestranges…" Luna mused thoughtfully. "He could have been a better person and a friend."

Hermione pursed her lips. "Yeah, well… I'd rather be friends with the giant squid. Besides, I have other things to worry about than being bothered by his hopeless attitude."

Luna chuckled. "Yes, you do," she agreed. "But don't you worry too much. You're always so prepared. I'm positive you'll be the Champion." She beamed at her.

"I have to be, don't I?" Hermione replied eagerly. "I don't want Potter to be the Hogwarts champion." She sent another glare in Harry's direction before continuing. "He doesn't need any more glory to showcase his so-called greatness in his life. I've had enough of that already—one more 'achievement' will make me vomit." Upon seeing Harry's name printed on the newspaper yet again, Hermione crumpled it and tossed it to the side.

Luna laughed. "I hear you." She smiled as she looked down at her own paper. "Read anything interesting?"

"No, it's all rubbish," Hermione stated firmly, sending one more insulted glance at the newspaper as if it had tried to physically injure her. "No one writes decent articles nowadays. They're all talking about blood purity and nonsense—"

"I bet you don't know what blood purity means, Granger."

Hermione whirled around to spring from her bench, a scowl immediately forming on her face. "I bet you don't know that eavesdropping is very rude, Potter. Didn't someone teach you how to keep your nose out of other people's business?"

Harry only shrugged. "You don't even know what you're saying. Blood purity is everything, Granger. You don't want to embarrass yourself now, do you?"

"I don't have to know what I'm saying because, like I said, it's rubbish and pure with nonsense."

"You know, someone like you _would_ call it rubbish if they didn't have parents alive to explain it to them." Students around them gasped at the inconsiderate insult. The Slytherins snickered in the background. Hermione, on the other hand, had taken enough. She stood up and pointed her wand threateningly at Harry.

In the midst of the heated moment, however, a friendly voice rang out from the door of the Great Hall. Ginny Weasley skipped toward them, her red-hair bouncing from behind her. She plastered a smile upon reaching them. "Hey, Harry—...Hermione. What's going on here? Why do you have your wand out?" she asked, looking mystified.

With a heavy sigh, Harry replied without glancing at Ginny, "Nothing."

Hermione lowered her wand, still glowering at her enemy. "That's right, it's nothing," she repeated for emphasis. "So you might want to go back to your House, Potter, and keep your foul mouth shut."

Ginny looked at them reproachfully. "You guys shouldn't be fighting," she whispered in a worried voice. "Competing to become Hogwarts Champion is what we're aiming for, and that doesn't mean that we should become enemies. We should be uniting together."

Hermione couldn't help but laugh at her earnest statement. "Unity is not written in Potter's vocabulary, Ginny."

"Well, how about you?" Harry snarled. His eyes narrowed behind his round glasses. "You'd just aimed your wand at me."

"You deserve to be blasted away for talking about my parents that way," Hermoine spat heatedly.

He crossed his arms. "Well, it's true," he responded nonchalantly. "They're dead—"

No one had expected what happened next; Hermione's fist had found its way across Harry's face, the force of the blow making him fall to the ground. Gasps rose throughout the now-quiet breakfast hall. Some of Harry's friends in Slytherin stood up on their table in defense. Ginny squeaked with surprise.

Hermione's jaw quivered with anger. "If I hear you say that again, Potter, I swear I'll kill you next time!" With that, she stalked off.

Ginny regarded the near-onslaught with worry. "Are you alright, Harry?" she asked with concern, helping him stand.

"I'm fine!" he retorted hotly, swatting her helping hands away. He looked daggers at Hermione's retreating form. "Don't you have anywhere to be besides here?" he asked Ginny, his voice brimming with annoyance.

"You don't have to use that tone with me. I was just concerned—"

"I don't need your concern!" he spat defensively, and before Ginny could utter a reply, he walked off to join his Slytherin friends at their table.

Ginny was left standing in the middle of the Great Hall, staring at Harry's back. Dazed, she sat at the Gryffindor table, followed closely by Cedric who came from the entrance with Ron and immediately sat beside her. Ron, on the other hand, strode straight to the Hufflepuff table and darted the two of them a scowl.

"Hi," Cedric whispered in her ear. She was slightly taken aback by his familiarity.

"Oh, hi, Cedric."

"I swear each time I see a Weasley," he mused with a curious glance, "they're always looking somber. What's wrong with you now?"

Ginny frowned. "Nothing's wrong," she said, forcing herself to feign a smile before she veered their subject toward a different path. "Is Ron okay?"

"He's fine. He's just—"

"Worried about the challenge later?" she finished for him. "He really wants to prove his worth, huh?" She shook her head. "He's so desperate."

"I understand why he's desperate," Cedric sighed softly. "Don't you think it's about time your family sees what he is trying to prove to himself? I mean, he's the Hufflepuff representative, and that's saying something."

"Why? Is he jealous he's not getting the attention he thinks he _deserves_ from us?"

"That's exactly what I think."

Ginny fell silent for a moment. "I don't know," she muttered apathetically while scooping a few strips of bacon and scrambled eggs onto her plate.

"I thought you wanted the Houses to be united," Cedric rebutted with a desperate tone. Ginny gave him a surprised look, so he added quickly, "I heard you talking to Potter and Granger—so why not with your brother?"

Ginny just shrugged and remained quiet.

Cedric's countenance shifted into disappointment. "Well, think about it, will you?" he encouraged, giving her an imploring look before leaving her to join Ron.

* * *

After breakfast, the four representatives of each House were called upon to gather outside the Headmaster's office. The sun peered from the high windows above them as they faced the stone eagle gargoyle in a cool, calm, and collected manner, despite knowing little about what was in store for them. They heard a thud past the wall from which the statue sprouted when the spiral staircase moved smoothly downward to reveal Albus Dumbledore.

Even though he was seething with abhorrence towards the Headmaster for giving chances to and supporting Muggleborns, Half-breeds, and non-magical folks in school and day-to-day activities, Harry Potter couldn't help but let his amazement show. Professor Dumbledore knew very well of Harry's dislike for him; the hateful student, after all, had shared his views many times with the Headmaster, but the head of the school only remained indifferent on the matter. Harry was aware that Dumbledore was concerned about him. Harry was an outstanding student—no one could deny that fact; even the professors would agree—but complaints in the form of letters from different parents kept arriving at Professor Dumbledore's desk detailing their concern that Harry was so willingly and shamelessly flaunting his attitude and behaviour around the school.

The Headmaster had attempted to talk to Harry many times. He even administered punishments and detentions to him, but he soon realized that nothing would help the issue. Surprisingly, only a few students' parents complained about their dislike for Harry. Most of them thought highly of him, and it was the feeling of being on the top of the student social hierarchy that gave Harry the guts to do whatever he wanted, despite the overall attempt of the staff to subdue him.

The four representatives had kept their distance from each other even when Professor Dumbledore descended the stairs. He only briefly inspected the four students in front of him before walking away and quickly ordering them to follow him.

They walked silently to the seventh floor, passing the Charms professor's office until they stopped at a blank wall opposite a tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy. Professor Dumbledore turned to face them and noticed their curious and bewildered expressions. No one had been to this floor. Harry looked at the Headmaster with interest after staring around the empty corridor.

"Behind you is a room where you will face challenges," Professor Dumbledore told the four calmly, his face for a moment regarding Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny with eagerness. They all looked past him when a door suddenly materialized. "Unexpected obstacles and setbacks will get in your way. Answers will always be within your grasps and will determine whether you are the true Hogwarts Champion. Do not forget your goal, and make sure to always see reality.

"Certain situations will prevent you from moving forward; it will come down to how you choose to interpret your circumstances and the subsequent thoughts you choose to dwell upon. You will face your greatest fears, but don't let poor choices prevent you from making objective decisions. Take control, and don't lose your way. If stuck, you can always return from where you came. Are there any questions?" asked Professor Dumbledore, but when no one spoke, he edged towards the door. "Good luck to you all."

The four representatives stood side-by-side before the double doors which suddenly swung in. After sending one final determined look toward their Headmaster, they took a step forward and entered into the unknown.

The room was dark at first; there were no lights that had sprung to life, and the atmosphere was completely quiet, amplifying the sound of their breathing and footsteps. They stared and squinted at each other, not knowing, yet fearing, what lay ahead of them. Quite suddenly, out of nowhere, bright silver smoke erupted before them, quickly dissipating to reveal a solid-looking table with goblets scattered around. Dirty pewter cauldrons lay on the left, and a vial of golden potion stood suspiciously yet enticingly at the center.

"Are we doing Potions?" Ginny asked the other three the moment she saw what was on the table.

"I don't think so," murmured Hermione, eyeing the gold potion with a dark, suspicious look.

Before anyone could speak, more smoke erupted from behind the table, and three different people materialized from thin air, facing them. The one to the left was an old woman wearing decent-looking clothes with a wand clutched in her hand.

"Is she a Muggleborn?" Harry hissed suddenly, looking displeased.

Ron glared at him. "Looks like it."

The next shape in the middle was a half-bred creature in the middle of a transformation; its elongated bones constantly changed shape, and the ruptured looking skin exhibited flesh and other disgusting features from within. Hermione and Ginny cringed visibly at the sight.

"That looks awful—" Hermione immediately remarked with her teeth clenched and a nauseous feeling quickly forming in her stomach.

"—and painful," added Ginny.

Harry snorted at the two girls. "What do you expect?" His voice was low and confident. "That's how a werewolf transforms."

"I know that! I'm only just saying," Hermoine quickly defended herself, but Harry wasn't listening to her. He was staring at the last person on the right instead of paying Hermione his precious attention. The hair of the figure was gray and brittle, his face creased with wrinkles, his skin waxy and sallow, his eyes sunken and dull. He wore a white shirt with vertical grey stripes.

"Azkaban prisoner," Harry muttered with a raised eyebrow.

The four of them stared at the sight before them, wondering what they ought to be doing while scrutinizing the presented problem. However, their musings were interrupted yet again when more smoke appeared in front of the table with words slowly forming to reveal a riddle:

Three humans stand before you

Each of their lives will soon undo

A bottle of cure ready to unscrew

To whom you shall give it to?

"So…" Ginny started thoughtfully, her brows furrowed. "We just have to choose who we'll pick to give the potion to, right?" she asked the other three, uncertain whether or not the words contained so simple a meaning.

"Obviously," Harry sneered. "How is this even a challenge? I can easily tell who to give the potion to."

Ron let out a scornful laugh. "Yeah. No doubt you'd pick the last one."

Harry locked his brilliant green eyes on him with disdain. "What's wrong with choosing the prisoner? I actually don't see any reason why I have to choose the other two."

"Because the first one is a Muggleborn and the second is a half breed?" Ron questioned in an accusatory tone.

"Exactly," Harry agreed as though it was obvious. "They don't deserve to be saved, no matter what the circumstances."

Ron's eyes glinted with hate as he whirled to face him. "That's absurd! You have to consider the others as well, regardless of their situation."

Harry gave him a fleeting glance. "Why should I?" He rolled his eyes, unconcerned. "It's my choice and not yours."

"But don't you remember what Professor Dumbledore said?" queried Ginny. "Don't let poor choices prevent you from making objective decisions."

"Why is choosing the prisoner a poor choice? Besides, who cares what Dumbledore says?" Harry replied hotly, annoyed that the two Weasleys were giving him such a hard time. "It's not like there's a right or wrong answer. You just pick who you'd choose." He marched toward the table clearly intending to demonstrate. He grabbed the vial of potion, and without second thoughts whatsoever, he handed it to the Azkaban prisoner who graciously took the vial and ravenously drank it.

Ron, Hermione, and Ginny drew in sharp intakes of breath as they waited for something to happen, but the vial only refilled itself as if waiting for the next representative. Their eyes widened, and disbelief carved itself on their faces when nothing further happened.

"See?" Harry presented casually, a tiny smile growing at the corners of his mouth. There was no censure in his voice as if he'd known full well what he had been doing. "It's not that hard. I don't know why you're all so scared to make a choice." He walked closer to a door on the opposite side of the room most likely leading to the chamber of the next round. He turned slowly to look back at them. "While you three determine who's taking the next turn... I'm gonna go ahead now, shall I?" He smirked at them and disappeared on to the next challenge, leaving the other three representatives with their mouths hanging open.

Hermione closed hers to frown. "I can't believe the door just let him pass," she complained the moment it closed behind him. "I mean, I was expecting it to not budge at all for choosing the wrong one."

"It's bizarre... but perhaps we just have to choose for ourselves, regardless of whether it's right or wrong," Ron muttered, lost in thought.

Hermione shook her head with disappointment. "But that doesn't make any sense. Professor Dumbledore clearly stated that we have to make a wise decision."

"Maybe not for this challenge," Ginny reasoned. "I know that idea is risky, and part of me can't believe the fact that I'm even considering it. But remember, we're only in the first round. I don't know how many more challenges we'll have to face." She took the vial and offered it to the werewolf who snatched at it gratefully. She headed toward the door through which Harry had gone. "I guess I'll see you later?" she told the other two, looking back at them one last time. With a small wave, Ginny also disappeared behind the door.

Ron and Hermione looked at each other. They were the only ones left.

"You can go ahead," Ron told her. "I can wait."

But Hermione shook her head and didn't move. She was still contemplating hard. "No, it's okay. I'll do it last."

"Are you sure?" he asked. "It's only the first task. Nothing happened to Potter and my sister, so I'm guessing this challenge isn't that bad."

"I doubt that," Hermione muttered, but she nodded to Ron to let him know that he could go ahead.

"Okay, then." Ron stepped forward reluctantly at first, but then gave the potion to the old lady. He cast one last look at Hermione who gave him a curt nod before disappearing behind the door.

Hermione sighed. It felt weird standing alone in the room with the Muggleborn, half breed, and the prisoner staring at her expectantly. It was hard to pretend that she wasn't both amazed and terrified by what had happened earlier. She desperately wanted to make the right decision, knowing she shouldn't disregard the Headmaster's advice. She knew there was a reason why he'd said what he said, and she was determined to figure out why as she progressed to the next challenges. The last thing she wanted was to make an incorrect and careless choice in the beginning only to hurt her in the long-run.

She analyzed the scene in front of her again. _Why would there be a large table with scattered goblets and cauldrons in it?_ she asked herself. _Surely they're not just for a dramatic display, right?_ She took the vial of potion and stared at it. This cure had healing powers for all three humans in front of her, and she had to choose one.

 _Or do I_?

She read the instructions again. _To whom you shall give it to?_ She repeated the last line again and again in her mind. "...It will not restrict me from giving the potion to the three of them, will it?" she asked herself aloud.

She grabbed three goblets from the table and poured the potion equally in each. She hesitated for a moment, unsure whether her answer was correct, but she wanted to save all three of them and she concluded that this might be the only way. With a deep breath, she shakily handed the goblets to each of them. She braced herself; her intuition told her that something was about to happen, but the anticipation was short-lived. Nothing happened when all three drank the potion, and Hermione quickly sighed with a mixture of relief and disappointment. She dragged her feet towards the door. She was about to open it when something odd happened.

A throbbing pain hit her temples like a powerful headache. She blinked when a vision suddenly began to form in her mind. She felt like she was watching someone's memory, but she couldn't tell to whom it belonged. _Did the other three also have the same vision before they disappeared behind the door?_ she asked herself, suddenly panicking. She could catch glimpses of images of herself, Ginny, Ron, and Harry. It confused her to see them laughing together and hugging each other outside of what looked like a small cottage beside a rocky shore. They looked peaceful and genuinely happy together; Hermione could sense a mutual understanding between each of them as if they were best friends for a long time.

Image after image flashed through her mind, none of which made sense to her. She didn't understand why she was seeing these visions all of a sudden. She felt like she was granted permission to peek into a different dimension. However, one thing was certain: all four of them were present and they had gone through a lot together; instead of enemies, they were really good friends.

Another scene rushed to her sight to replace the last one before Hermione could even interpret its meaning. She could see herself holding a large, pearly and jaded volume that read " _Anima_ " on the front cover. She frowned at it, having never seen a book like it before. Phantom Ginny and Ron were hovering around the book as well, and Harry was lying in bed behind them. However, he looked different; he was rather pale and sickly. Hermione glanced around the small room. It seemed as if they were in a room discussing something important that she couldn't hear. She squinted a few times to try and fully witness the vision or perhaps perceive what they were talking about in some way, but the images were gone as quickly as they came as if someone had turned off a switch.

Hermione stared blankly at the simple, umber door looming before her. "What just happened?" she breathed under her breath. She could feel her heart racing in her chest. She had never experienced visions before. _But, was it really a vision? Was that also part of the challenge?_ she worriedly asked herself before stumbling through the door, disoriented and a little light-headed.

**To be continued...**

* * *

**Beta-read by Smthnborrowediamblue, KVeronicaP**


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Friendly reminder: If you haven't yet, please read Chapters 1-18 before reading this chapter or else nothing will make sense. Thank you!

Horace Slughorn, Molly, and Arthur transferred the unconscious forms of Ron, Hermione, and Ginny into three small, separate beds which they had conjured beside Harry. The three had been unconscious for an hour. Unsettlement and concern were beginning to show on the adults' faces.

"How long do we have to wait for them to wake up?" Molly asked Slughorn, her mounting frustration given away by the visible creases of worry in the dim moonlight. Molly sensed there was something about their current predicament he wasn't telling them. It killed her to think of Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny trapped inside in their own minds. She knew they couldn't rush whatever hardship they were facing, but they didn't have all the time in the world either.

Slughorn looked lost in thought. "I am uncertain," he responded with regret. "The ritual hadn't specified what they would be facing. We have no choice but to wait, I'm afraid."

An anxious-looking Hagrid looked up at the two from where he sat on the edge of Harry's bed. "They _will_ wake up, righ'?"

"Yes, but—" It took awhile for Slughorn to finish an answer to him as if he had to consider his words carefully. He stared at them all, and they met his gaze evenly, eyes rife with worry. Finally, knowing he couldn't keep this a secret any longer, he took a deep breath. "If they fail the ritual, Harry may not wake up."

Horror-stricken, the adults simultaneously snapped their dumbstruck attention to the four teens. The repercussions short-circuited their trains of thoughts, and they blacked out to the world for a moment. They couldn't do anything to help them but only hope for a successful ritual. They knew how maddening it must be for Harry to be aware of what was happening and not be able to do a thing about it. He was never one to shirk from a challenge and would always choose to confront his enemies. But how could he fight an enemy that lived inside his soul?

Hagrid looked stiff as if desperately listening to the sound of Harry's breathing, which sounded more rhythmic at the moment. Despite his even breathing, Harry looked terribly vulnerable; his pale visage was one of exhaustion and his lips were severely chapped.

While the three adults were lost in dismal thought, a furious tapping came from the window. An owl was flying frantically about it and, from the markings, they recognized it at once as George Weasley's. Curious, Bill let the owl in, but all their jaws dropped when they noticed the red envelope clutched within its claws.

"Why would George send a Howler?" Percy asked, perplexed.

Without giving a response, Bill snatched it out of worried dread and tore open the envelope until it exploded in front of him. They recognized the roaring voice of Corban Yaxley filling the quiet space of Shell Cottage straight away. They all exchanged quick and nervous glances before listening to what he had to say.

"WE HAVE YOUR PRECIOUS SON GEORGE. IF YOU WANT TO SEE HIM ALIVE, BRING POTTER TO THE FORBIDDEN FOREST. YOU HAVE UNTIL MIDNIGHT."

A deafening silence fell upon the group. The red envelope in Bill's hands burst into flames before dying and dissipating, leaving only ashes in its wake. The adults all stood, their feet glued to the creaking wooden floor, stunned as if a tidal wave had just slammed into them. They gazed from one to the other.

"G-george," Molly stammered. Her hand shook as she brought it to her chest. A look of fright stuck on her face when she turned to her husband.

Arthur fidgeted, looking panicked. "We have four hours left before midnight."

"How do we know if tha' Howler is true?" Hagrid boomed out, glaring at the pile of ashes impatiently. "Yaxley could be lyin'."

"I can check the joke shop. George lives just above it," Percy volunteered immediately. A slight nod of Hagrid's head indicated he understood.

Arthur nodded. "Send us a word once you find out, son." Percy quickly darted out of the cottage and Disapparated.

"I'll have to talk to Kingsley," Arthur informed Molly. "We have to devise a plan, and we may have to go there without Harry."

"But they'll kill George if we don't have him with us," Molly said fretfully, her voice shaky and her eyes streaming with tears.

Arthur tried to sound encouraging. "We don't know that yet. We have to figure things out calmly." Molly gave him a tight smile before he hastened out the front door and Disapparated as well when he was at a good distance away from the cottage.

* * *

"What took you so long?" Harry complained once Hermione emerged from the door and joined them in the second task. They were all waiting for her to come to complete the next challenge efficiently.

The room they were in was dark like the first but circular in shape. The only light source came from the centre where two magnificent mirrors stood tall in front of them with knobs on each of their sides like doors.

"Why do you have to wait for me?" Hermione shot back hotly. "If you're in such a hurry, you can just move along ahead, you know."

Harry glared at her. "I would have if I could, FYI. Apparently, this room wouldn't show us what the second task is unless we're all here, and at last, you graced us with your presence." He mocked deference as he rolled his eyes at the bushy-haired girl.

"Well, how was I supposed to know that? I'm here now, so stop complaining!" she commanded angrily, her face turning red.

Harry turned around, fuming with rage, and strode away from them, his cloak billowing haughtily behind.

Ginny sighed at the pair of them and followed Harry.

"Are you alright?" Ron asked Hermione.

"I'm fine," Hermione replied curtly.

"What happened back there? Did you get into trouble?"

"No," she whispered as she looked down at her shoes. She abruptly glanced back up at the Hufflepuff competitor. "Did you get a pain in your head and a vision when you finished the first task?" Hermione asked curiously.

Ron shook his head. "What do you mean vision?" He asked, a bewildered look spreading on his features.

Hermione summarized what had happened and what she had seen. By the time she finished, he had delved into deep thought.

"Are you sure you don't remember any memory like that before?"

"It's very unlikely that I would have memories that involved Potter as a friend," she replied convincingly. "He and I don't get along, as you can see."

"That's true," Ron responded thoughtfully. "Or you could have been seeing the future!" The red-haired boy sprang at the idea, smiling as if he was positive that he had solved her mini crisis.

"I dunno," Hermione said thoughtfully, her pensive eyes looking far away in the distance as she fidgeted with her skirt. "It doesn't feel like it's from the future… I got the sense that it's more like it's happening at the present time but in a different dimension. You know what I mean?"

Ron contemplated the meaning of her comment. "Yeah, I get you. But why are you seeing those visions now?"

"It's really weird actually," she explained as she glanced back at him. "For the first task, I gave the potion to all three of them since I wanted to save them all, and then it happened."

"Maybe it's part of the way you did the challenge. I mean, you're the only one who did it differently."

Hermione bit her lip and worked her eyebrows into a knot. "No, that couldn't be the case. The vision felt... _real,_ and as odd as it is, I feel like I have to do something about it."

"But how?" Ron asked incredulously. "You can't just transport yourself to a different dimension; that's not even possible!"

"I don't know how, but it must have something to do with these tasks."

Noticing Harry and Ginny's standstill situation, the two joined them. The four edged closer until they stood in-between the mirrors when they heard a distant voice. "Who are you?"

They stood transfixed to the spot when they caught sight of their reflections in both mirrors. The one on the left showed no difference to them, while the ones on the right revealed a different reflection of themselves.

Gaping, Harry stared at his reflections where he could clearly see multiple facets of himself as a successful wizard, wearing a very respectable-looking suit; he could easily tell he looked like a Minister of Magic. The other ones revealed him as the Head of Aurors and a good-looking, successful Healer. He looked at the mirror on the left again, noticing how dull and boring his reflection looked compared to those of the right one. The voice resounded once more, asking him who he was.

Ron squinted at the sight before him. The mirror on the right showed him holding the Triwizard Cup, but what made his heart skip a beat was when he saw his parents behind him as the only child, pride emanating from their faces as they cheered for his glory. This reflection showed him—and was giving him everything he ever wanted and longed for in his life. It wasn't easy to deal with what he had, and looking back at himself in the mirror made him crave it. In other facets, he also saw himself as a well-known alchemist and in another, a professor in different schools while the mirror on the left reflected nothing but his usual self.

The two magical objects before them functioned the same for Hermione and Ginny when they gazed at themselves in the right mirror. Hermione glowed with pleasure and admiration, seeing herself as the Headmistress of Hogwarts with Order of Merlin awards for her accomplishments, as well as being an Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defense League.

Ginny, on the other hand, saw herself as the next Quidditch Captain of the famous Holyhead Harpies and a Senior Quidditch correspondent for the Daily Prophet. She and Hermione both peered at the left mirror, and, just like Harry and Ron, they only saw their own reflections with no other augmentations.

All four of them stared hungrily back at their own tantalizing deepest desires in life without really paying much attention to the other, average one, except for Hermione, who eyed the left mirror with interest.

"Does this mirror show the future?" Ginny asked, awed and amazed.

"No," Ron replied flatly.

"How do you know?"

"Because I see myself being an only child."

"So what does this mirror do exactly?"

"It shows us what we truly want in life." Harry's reply was almost too simple. "Our deepest desires probably."

"Don't you guys think it's a bit odd that two mirrors stand before us, as if making us choose which one to take?" Hermione began pensively. "One with nothing to show but our own reflection, while the other mirrors what we truly want. I mean, we obviously know we want to choose the right."

"Yes," Ginny agreed. "The ones on the right. No doubt about that." Her hand touched the glass she was hoping to fall right through it and reach the fulfillment of her dreams. Her heart ached for it as a deep sense of yearning shot through her body, causing her to shudder.

"It's not odd at all," Harry drawled, clearly in a daze from his fixation of the mirror that showed him all of his hopes and desires. "They're only mirrors, and no doubt won't do you any harm whichever you choose, like the first task. You don't really have to think hard about it. Instead of choosing the boring one on the left, it's better to go on the right. At least it shows you where you want your life to lead."

"But isn't it obvious that we all want the same thing?" Hermione asked thoughtfully. "What's the point of that one mirror on the left?"

"Nothing! There's no point!" Harry replied exasperatedly. All of the Muggleborn's questions were irritating him. "You can still reach whatever goal you want in your life regardless of which mirror you choose."

"I'm only saying that there must be a reason," Hermione tried to point out. Ron couldn't agree with her reasoning more, but he was also tempted to choose the tantalizing right mirror as if its reflections would come true if he did.

Harry sighed heavily. "Think of _whatever_ reason you want, but make sure you won't take long this time! Your slow pace is driving me crazy," he snapped at her. He reached for the knob of the right mirror, turned it, and confidently strode through without a backward glance at the rest of them.

Hermione cursed under her breath. "Can't he just stop for a minute and think? I know he hates being around me or us, but that's no way to deal with these challenges," she complained, her brows furrowed.

"Let him do what he wants, Hermione," Ron told her calmly, though his patience was growing thin with Harry as well.

"I'm only saying—"

"He probably knows what he's doing," Ginny interrupted casually. "Mind you, he's got a point as well. I'm following his lead without thinking too much about it. We haven't yet come across a problem for choosing what we thought was the right one, have we?" She patted Hermione's shoulder and went ahead through the right mirror.

Ron smiled sadly at Hermione. "We're the only ones left again. As much as I'm tempted to choose the mirror on the right, I guess I should go with your instinct," he told her somewhat reluctantly. He cleared his throat. "Do you wanna go first?"

"Sure," she said. Slowly, she walked towards the left mirror and turned the knob. She looked back at Ron and said, "See you on the other side." Ron nodded, and she disappeared behind the door.

Ron followed her footsteps and opened the door after her. The moment he closed the door behind him, visions swam across his mind, portraying scenes and images identical to Hermione's descriptions. It took him a few minutes to calm himself down after witnessing what Hermione had also seen earlier. He saw her waiting for him with a look of understanding on her facial expression. She had seen another vision as well, and both of them were speechless at first.

"D-did you see it t-too?" she asked, her voice quivering.

Ron nodded his head, "Yes. I thought I was going crazy at first, but I saw these images… a bunch of them."

"What did you see?"

Ron gulped. "I saw myself and him." He gestured towards Harry who was walking far ahead of them. "We were in the same house—Gryffindor. We had so many adventures together in school; it was so weird. I could never imagine myself being friends with him."

"Isn't it?" Hermione whispered worriedly, though at the same time, excitement was flooding through her as well. "I—I was with him, too. We were like best friends or something, and we seemed really happy to be in each other's company."

"I don't know what's going on, but now I understand what you were telling me… It felt so real like I've been there before," he said, shuddering at the thought. "But why did Potter look so ill like he were dying?" he asked curiously.

Hermione, surprised at hearing this, glanced up at his worried countenance. "You saw it, too?"

"Yeah. I wasn't expecting it until I saw my mum helping him out at our house. I recognized the living room. He was lying on our sofa. That was my last vision."

"Mine, too," she agreed eagerly. "I saw a book called Anima, I don't know why the Hermione in my vision was reading it. Ever heard of it?"

"It means 'soul'," Ron said simply.

There was a moment's silence between them. Both of them mulled over their own thoughts.

"This may sound weird," said Hermione after a while. "But I think we should help him."

Ron's eyes widened at her voiced thought, and he looked at her incredulously. "Are you mad? How are we going to do that?"

"I don't know… but every time I choose the opposite from the obvious options in these tasks, those visions or memories become clearer. It's like it's connected somehow. The Potter we know here is so different from the one in my visions, too."

Ron couldn't agree more. "I know what you mean. He's friends with half breeds and doesn't really care about blood purity and stuff. He's like… the good boy in that world. I actually like him a lot better than what we have here." He glared at the dark-haired boy a ways away from them, walking along a long corridor that would undoubtedly lead them to the next task. Torches lined on each side of the walls, illuminating their way ahead. Ron and Hermione broke into a sprint to catch up with him and Ginny.

A sudden gasp escaped Hermione's lips. She was momentarily paralyzed, her feet glued to the floor.

"What is it?" Ron asked with sudden alarm.

"I could hear it, Ron."

"Hear what?" he asked, confused. He looked around, straining to hear any sound, but the atmosphere was too quiet.

"The vision," she whispered.

Ron frowned. "But how… how could you hear it?"

"I don't know how it happened, but I kept on thinking about it like I was there with them, and that's when I heard it."

"What did you hear?" he asked curiously.

Hermione hesitated for a second, and then said in a whisper, "Potter's soul is damaged, and I saw us cast a spell." She looked uncertainly at Ron. "I think this world we're in now isn't real, Ron."

"What?" he asked, bewildered at her statement. "How can you say that?"

There were so many things that were popping into her head that didn't make any sense to her at first, but they were somehow beginning to have meaning like a light was turned on quite suddenly, guiding her slowly back to where she needed to be.

"I just feel it," she replied. "I can't explain properly, but try to really place yourself in those visions… Try to feel and hear it…"

Ron stared into the distance and let himself be absorbed once again in what he had seen after the second task. He could feel the rustling of the wind and hear the crashing of waves. The Harry in that world was saying something, but it wasn't audible. The vision changed to him standing in a dimly lit room. He looked around himself and saw Hermione and Ginny standing around a bed, their eyes fixed on the person lying in bed—Harry, who was smiling at them. Ron's eyes went wide open when he heard him, as though the volume was suddenly flicked on.

"—thank you for helping me. I don't know what will happen after this, but I want you all to know how…" But he failed to hear what Harry was saying next. He saw himself drink a potion and then a bright, silver light.

Before Ron could say a word to Hermione of what he had seen and heard, the four of them were now entering a brilliantly lit chamber. Its ceiling arched high above them like it was in a stadium ready for a game of Quidditch. Sure enough, four broomsticks emerged out of nowhere, and they could hear the buzz of wings zooming past them—the golden snitch.

They all stopped beside the broomsticks that were hanging in midair and waiting to be mounted. Ron was still in shock from what Hermione had just revealed to him a few minutes ago and wondered if everything she said about their current world was true—how it was not real and was connected to Harry's damaged soul. His thoughts were disrupted when Hermione spoke to the group.

"Are we supposed to catch the snitch?" She looked around worriedly for any sign of the golden ball. She considered herself exceptionally talented in Quidditch, but her mind was wandering elsewhere.

"I think so," Ginny answered hesitantly.

Harry had already mounted his broomstick and taken off. He had stopped talking to them and decided to just give them silent treatments.

Ron rounded to face Hermione, "I heard some of it, Hermione," he sputtered, unable to control himself from wanting to know more. "He was thanking us for helping him out. We drank a potion and we cast a spell... like what you said." Out in the corner of his eyes, he saw his sister looking at him with bewilderment. _She must've heard,_ he thought.

"What are you rambling about?" she asked, looking between his brother and Hermione curiously.

"Look, Ginny…" he said carefully, nervously eyeing Hermione who only nodded for him to continue. "This may sound strange, but Hermione and I had a vision about the four of us after we completed the first and second tasks."

Ginny raised her eyebrows. "Vision," she repeated and snorted with an amused look on her face as if seeing visions were the last thing that Ron would ever ask for if given a choice of power. "And what did you see?" she mocked, feigning interest.

"We're all friends," blurted Hermione. "Even Potter was really close to us, but he was sick because of his damaged soul."

Ginny guffawed heartily. "I know how much you don't like Harry, Hermione. Being friends with him is something you'd never wish for in your life, and saying things about his soul... You're full of freaky fantasies. How do I know you're not making up all those visions?"

"I'm not," said Hermione forcefully. "Ron's seen them, too, so how do you explain that?"

"How could I know? It could be that you want to use it against Harry to win this challenge."

Ron sighed, irritated. He knew it would be hard to explain things to his obstinate sister. "We didn't make up those visions, Ginny. Why would you even think that? We both saw it in our minds."

"It's obvious," she replied with disbelief. "Because you both hate him. I bet you'd do anything to stop him."

"Do you see us stopping him right now?" Ron asked heatedly. "There's a bigger problem... I can feel it."

Ginny mounted her broom. "I have no time for this" she stated. "We're in the middle of a task here in case you've forgotten," she spat and flew away before Ron could respond.

"What do we do now?" he asked Hermione anxiously.

"We have to try harder," she muttered resolutely while holding out one of the remaining broomsticks. "We have to encourage your sister to believe us before we do anything with Potter."

They took off into the air. Ron kept a good distance away from Ginny, but Hermione sped up and flew beside her so they could talk.

"Ginny," said Hermione, the wind brushing against her face. "I swear we're not making up the visions! It's the truth! Harry needs help now."

Ginny's eyes flashed with annoyance, and she stopped midair. "What you're saying is full of rubbish. Visions are just figments of your imaginations and nothing else. I know you hate your life, but don't drag me into it." She sped up, and Hermione tried to tail from behind.

" _Please_ hear me out. I know it's hard to believe, and I wouldn't deny that I hate my life because of Potter, but please! Try to open your mind! You can't see it clearly right now, but we're dealing with a different Harry, and he needs you, Ginny; he needs us," she begged desperately.

"And why is that exactly?" Ginny asked menacingly.

Hermione hesitated. "All I know is that our current world is not real," she said firmly.

Ginny choked out a derisive laugh. "Are you serious!?" she asked incredulously. "Are you hearing yourself? Have you gone mad? How can this _not_ be real?"

"It's all in your head, Ginny," Ron replied, backing up Hermione on her statement while zooming to catch up with the two girls. "I feel like we're not in control... like something else is painting our mindset on emotions, thoughts, perceptions."

"That doesn't make it any less real," Ginny quickly reasoned.

"But don't you get it? I believe that you're not seeing the visions because you're allowing that 'something' to overpower you," Ron finished.

"Think of it this way," Hermione said quickly before Ginny could accelerate off again. "Whatever you believe in your mind is projected to your life right now; your beliefs, the way you act, or what you want. But if you really want to perceive a reality, all you have to do is change whatever is in your mind. You just have to be in control of yourself. Don't let it get to you."

"Just for the sake of ending this conversation, what do I have to do, then?" asked Ginny, giving up on bailing from their constant efforts.

"Convince your mind that this world is not real… that this is not you," encouraged Ron.

"It's difficult to explain what's going on when we don't even understand it ourselves," Hermione said matter-of-factly. "But trust us on this. I know there's a purpose behind why we're seeing these visions."

Ginny grew quiet. Sure, she was willing to find the purpose behind the visions, but it still didn't make sense to her. It was ridiculous to want to let go of all she worked hard for in this world, and being told that this was not real felt like an insult to her. She sighed as she continued to search for the snitch. She wanted to win this challenge and become the Hogwarts champion for the Triwizard Tournament, but the thought that something… or someone else was in control, she began to doubt herself and her mind.

Catching the snitch was proving to be difficult. Even Harry, who had been following it for a while now, found that it kept disappearing from him before revealing itself to be floating on the opposite side of the stadium so far away that catching up to it would allow the tiny golden ball to change its course of direction once again, proving all efforts futile. The fact that he was still there in the challenge, stuck with no other company but his three other competitors who were closely talking with each other without a care in the world, was frustrating him immensely.

He sped up and down, desperately wishing that this wild goose chase would end soon so that he could just lay back and nap in his comfortable bed in Slytherin sooner than later. He felt at peace in his common room, surrounded by purebloods, his best friends who shared his beliefs. His insides squirmed with longing and yearning for his favoured chamber. He was beginning to grow tired. How much longer these challenges would last was a question he wanted answered right away. But no one could tell him that, not even the three people in this room he was with.

Harry's sight shifted slightly when he saw a golden speck straight ahead of him. He thought everyone else was too busy to notice his target's location, so he was briefly surprised to see Ginny speeding up past him, her face full of determination. He shook his thoughts away and sped up so that he was side by side with Ginny. Ron and Hermione were behind them but they lacked that firm resolve, unlike his current fiercest competitor. He threw a glance over his shoulder and saw them whispering to each other, but he couldn't care less. Ginny was ahead of him now, flying with exceptional speed. He internally praised her for that, but he was painfully aware that this was not the time to admire her skill; he needed to show her who was really winning this challenge.

Harry bent forward to increase his strength and speed. The snitch swerved from left to right, up and down, just out of their grasp. It was exhilarating to keep track of the snitch's ever-changing location, and he was determined not to let it slip past him again. He was inches away from Ginny, but her hand was reaching over the snitch. Any moment, she would be able to grab it. He let out a small yelp of surprise. He was losing his balance. His broomstick was acting up, probably from flying too fast. He tried to steady himself, but his broomstick yanked itself to one side.

Ginny heard Harry's small exclamation, but she was too close to closing her fingers over the snitch. Ron and Hermione were yelling somewhere from behind, but she was too focused to care. However, after countless attempts to block them out and concentrate, Ginny realized she couldn't let Harry fall down to the dangerously low ground below. She looked behind her, and her eyes shot wide open upon seeing Harry dangling by his hands in midair, desperately trying to hold onto his broomstick. With one last fleeting glance at the snitch, Ginny quickly spun around and sped towards him. Ron and Hermione zoomed towards his direction as well, but she was by far the closest. She reached his side just before the last of his fingers slipped from the broom handle. She caught his arm and tried with all her might to bring him back onto his broomstick while keeping her balance, and when she did, something happened.

Visions exploded across Ginny's mind as though she were watching a scene from a moving painting. She was transfixed to the spot. Her eyes, glazed over with wonder and confusion, looked nowhere and at no one in particular. Harry noticed the sudden occurrence, and he debated whether or not to shake her to pull her out of her stupor. He looked around himself and saw Ron and Hermione from a distance, also having the same incapability of movement and recognition at the moment, with the same hazy look in their eyes. As frightening as it sounded to him, Harry wondered what was happening to them and why he was not affected at all. He sidled his broom beside Ginny and shook her gently.

"Weasley," he said softly. Ginny's gaze roamed to his and at that moment, he could see that her eyes were welling with tears. "Are you okay?" he asked, but she remained speechless, unable to control her trembling. Harry heard the rush of broomsticks behind him and saw the other two had finally come around. "What happened?" he questioned impatiently, back to his old rough, stubborn, selfish self. "You three seemed to be out of it for a few minutes."

"I saw it," Ginny said, her voice hushed. Her hand covered her mouth in pure shock. "You were right about everything. This isn't real. I heard him, and I can feel his pain." Tears cascaded down her face when she surveyed Ron and Hermione's looks of agreement.

"What are you talking about? What isn't real?" Harry asked her again. He was tired of having so many unanswered questions. "You heard who?"

"You," Hermione breathed. "We heard you and saw you."

"In a vision or memory," added Ron quickly when he noticed Harry's confused and irritated look.

"You were in so much pain," Ginny whispered while wiping her eyes on her sleeve, sadness weaving into her somber tone.

Harry sighed incredulously. "You're all insane and not making any sense. How can I be in pain? Why are you all having visions? Am I missing something? Is this still part of the tasks?" He still had so many questions swirling around in his mind, and he doubted whether he would get a decent answer from these three who were driving him crazy.

"No, I don't believe it's part of the task, Harry," Hermione tried to explain. She was beginning to forget the Hermione she once was in this made-up world, and Harry was taken aback when she referred to him using his first name. "This world… this world is not real. The real one... is in the visions we had."

Harry barked with laughter. "Have you all entirely lost your minds? You can't be seeing visions or memories and saying they were real if you weren't there in the first place. I'm completely healthy, just so you guys know." He sighed again with derision.

"You can't see it because you're wasting your life seeing and living only on what's put in front of you," Ron said, trying to convince Harry. "This—" he gestured around him. "This is just an illusion. A false world. You have to open up your eyes to be able to see clearly. Ginny didn't believe us at first either, but now she does."

Harry shook his head. "I'm not buying it,' he refused obstinately, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "There are _so_ many contradictions with what you three are saying."

"You don't always have to understand everything," Hermione told him softly. "Some things will just never make sense. You only have to accept the truth wholeheartedly. We did, and now we're helping you."

"I don't need help, least of all from all of you," Harry spat. "So can't we all just continue with the task at hand in _this_ world before I go crazy?" He spun around and flew away.

Only Harry was focused on the current task. Ron, Hermione, and Ginny had already resigned from their Quidditch positions. Their goal now was to convince Harry the best they could that this was the only way to save him and themselves from the world they were trapped in.

Before they knew it, Harry had caught the snitch and he wore a visibly triumphant face when he landed on the ground, joining them a few moments later.

"You all have totally given up, haven't you?" he asked with a smirk. In all honesty, he wasn't concerned about any of the rubbish coming out of their mouths.

"No," whispered Hermione. "We only have one goal now, and that is to convince you—"

"That this world is _fake_?" Harry cut off his Ravenclaw competitor with a sneer. "Not a chance."

"Harry… please listen to us," Ginny pleaded while following him from behind; he was determined to go to the next room for the fourth task. "You have to believe what we're saying or else you'll die."

Harry spun around. His hands were already flat against the door to the new task. "What?" he snarled loudly. "Is that a threat, Weasley?"

"No, Harry," she responded nervously. "It's the truth."

Harry pointed a finger at Ginny and commanded her in a threatening voice. "Well, _here's_ the truth... If you three don't stop pestering me, you will all die!" With that, he stalked off and disappeared behind the door, leaving Ron, Hermione, and Ginny annoyed but even more determined than they were before.

**To be continued...**

* * *

**Beta-read by Smthnborrowediamblue, KVeronicaP**


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A friendly reminder again: If you haven't read Chapter 1-19, please do so first because none of what's written here would make sense if you don't. Thank you!

Most of the workers at the Ministry had gone home for the day when a livid and extremely worried-looking Arthur Weasley found himself at the almost-vacant Atrium when he arrived to urgently meet with the Minister. He sprinted towards one of the lifts but suddenly stopped when he spotted the man for whom he had come to search.

Alarmed by his sudden entrance and fearful expression, Kingsley Shacklebolt dashed out of the lift and walked quickly towards Arthur.

"I need to talk to you," Arthur sputtered urgently.

"I think I know what this is about," Kingsley's booming voice sounded grave as it reverberated off of the colossal walls. "Let's talk in my office." He led Arthur to the lift, and it began bringing them to level one.

Arthur looked at him with surprise. "You know what happened?"

"It's about your son George, isn't it?"

"Yes," Arthur remarked sadly. He looked at his shoes. "We got a Howler saying that he's been kidnapped."

Kingsley nodded as the elevator doors opened to reveal a small corridor. "So I've heard. I received a fire-call from one of the Aurors stating that they had seen Death Eaters enter the joke shop in Diagon Alley," he replied as they brusquely walked towards Kingsley's office. They turned a corner and entered his workplace. Once they sat down in the comfortable chairs, Kingsley immediately continued the discussion.

"I knew right away whose shop it belonged to," he resumed calmly. "I sent more Aurors at the scene to investigate. I quickly left my office to contact you, and that's when I saw you at the Atrium."

"Percy went there and to George's apartment to check," Arthur informed him. "I'm still waiting for his return." He sighed as he fidgeted with his hands, fingers teeming with nervous energy.

Kingsley curtly nodded. He clasped his hands together. "Who sent the Howler? What did it say?" he asked solemnly.

"Yaxley," Arthur replied fiercely. "He said he's got my son and he wanted us to bring Harry to the Forbidden forest before midnight, or else they'll—" He couldn't continue his sentence while his eyes began to glisten with tears, but Kingsley seemed to know exactly what he meant.

"Where is Harry right now?" he asked.

"He's with my son Bill. Molly's there, too." As if just then grasping the meaning of Kingsley's words, he looked up at the Minister with alarm. "We cannot bring Harry, Kingsley. He's unconscious right now."

"Unconscious?" Kingsley asked, bewilderment written on his face. "Has his sickness gotten worse?"

Arthur shook his head. "He is very ill but not to the point of fainting. Ron, Hermione, and Ginny have begun the mending process; they're all unconscious."

"Why's that? The potion didn't work?" Kingsley asked curiously. "I was aware they have to brew the potion, but aside from that, I don't know anything else."

"They did…" Arthur confirmed hesitantly. "But they have to go through a certain ritual, a task or something. I'm not really sure how it works, but they've been out for a while now, and we're starting to worry."

At that moment, a loud knock on the door jolted Kingsley and Arthur out of their thoughts. The Minister sprang up opened the door, revealing Percy Weasley behind it.

He acknowledged the Minister with a curt nod and entered the room. "Dad," he called when he saw Arthur standing up from his chair.

"What have you found out, son?" Arthur asked immediately.

"I couldn't find George. The joke shop was in a state of total mess, Dad. No one saw whether he was taken, but a few nearby residents said that they saw hooded figures come in. I checked his apartment on the upper floor, but it was empty. What do we do now?"

Percy's question made Arthur sigh worriedly and glance at the Minister for some answers or guidance.

"We must not take Harry to the Forbidden Forest," Kingsley stated firmly.

"But what about their demands?" Arthur asked anxiously. "I'm afraid of what they'll do to my son."

"We can find a way through this. Let me gather up the Aurors."

* * *

The air hummed softly with the sound of late-evening crickets as the night sky sparkled with thousands of stars casting light over Shell Cottage, the humble home to which Arthur and Percy were returning, their talk with Kingsley meandering through their minds.

Inside, Molly sat restlessly, fretting in one of the chairs in the kitchen until the creaking door revealed her husband and son. She quickly ran to them, bombarding them with questions.

"Where is George? Have you found him? What happened to—"

Arthur shook his head, immediately silencing her. "I talked to Kingsley," he informed her.

Bill, Hagrid, and Slughorn gathered around them, no trace of exhaustion evident on their faces. They were all intensely alert, listening closely to Arthur's news.

"I told him about Harry's current situation," he continued calmly. "He told me he would gather the Aurors and they would station themselves around the forest ahead of time. Then we can go there."

"But we can't show up there without Harry," Molly protested anxiously. "They'll kill George!"

"Kingsley will try to negotiate," he told her.

"But—"

"We'll get our son back no matter what, but if it comes down to the point of fighting them off, then we will," Arthur replied before she could rebut, a cold stare hardening his features.

Molly bowed her head. "I wish we wouldn't have to. I can't bear to have a-another d-death in our family."

"Don't worry, mum," Bill interrupted softly, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Nothing bad is going to happen. Percy and I will go with you and Dad."

Hagrid cleared his throat. "I'll come with yer too," he offered roughly. "I couldn' bear ter witness another one close ter yer an' Harry dying at the hands of the Death Eaters. I have seen enough deaths already, and I 'ill try ter stop it if I could."

"I'll stay here to watch the children in case something happens," Slughorn piped in.

Arthur and Molly nodded their agreements, and the five set off into the unforgiving night to Disapparate.

* * *

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny entered another dimly lit room, similar to the ones of the first two tasks but only larger. The eerily tense feeling in the room conjured up the sense that someone was being interrogated. A small table stood in the middle of the chamber with a ray of light cast upon it, sending a ripple of light through its surface that encased it in a luminosity and illuminated its features, producing a stark contrast to the rest of the dark space. Harry's eyes flickered to it as the only object in the room and noticed something long and sharp resting on top of it. His confident and reckless instincts made his mind wonder what would happen if he stepped closer to the table.

"Harry!" Hermione called out to him when she saw him advance curiously toward the table. "Can we please talk to you for a minute?" She asked anxiously, worry visible on her face.

"Make it quick, Granger," he said, sneering at her. He was already sick of listening to them; they delayed his task of completing these simple challenges.

"We're not doing the tasks anymore and neither should you," she declared firmly.

Harry raised his eyebrows.

"We are not here to make threats," she continued hastily. "But what Ginny said is the truth. You'll die if you keep going on with this pointless charade!"

"What's so wrong with doing this task?" he questioned hotly. "The one we had earlier wasn't even life-threatening."

"Aside from when you almost fell from your broomstick," Ron stated sarcastically. "Just saying."

Harry cast him a dark look. "Why are you all so scared to continue?"

"Because they were there to test us," Hermione reasoned. "The tasks determine whether you're willing to see past current realities and stop or to ignore the warnings set in front of you and keep going."

"Yeah," Ron agreed. "This," he pointed at Harry's body, "is not you, mate."

"Don't call me 'mate'," Harry snarled fiercely. "We're not even friends and never will be."

Ron immediately seemed hurt at his pronouncement. "We are, actually," he reminded more to himself than to Harry. "More like best friends."

Harry snorted. "Don't give me rubbish like that!" he spat incredulously.

"It's not rubbish, Harry. It's the truth." Hermione insisted softly and calmly. "We are your best friends. We are all in Gryffindor. You're friends with half breeds and Muggleborns like me, and you are the best friend we've ever had. We had so many adventures. We laughed. We cried. We held on to each other no matter what. We supported and helped one another. Don't dismiss this, Harry. Please try to remember!"

"You aren't the real you in this world, Harry," Ginny confirmed, agreeing with her Muggleborn friend. "The Harry I know is strongly guided by his own conscience and has a keen sense for what is right and wrong. You are brave and selfless. You're not cruel. You're competitive, yes, but for the better part, you always act with humility and modesty."

"And not only that, you're gifted as well," Ron added quietly.

Harry cast a contemptuous look at Ron. "Finally, I'm hearing the only truth from you, Weasley," he voiced aloud as he rolled his eyes.

"Well, you fought against the Dark Arts, Harry," Ron revealed.

That piqued Harry's curiosity. "Against what exactly?" he asked trepidatiously.

Ron smiled at his sudden interest. "Dementors, Death Eaters, Inferi… You name it. Oh, and—and you killed Voldemort," he added as an afterthought.

"Voldemort? Who's that?" Harry queried, frowning. _What a weird name,_ he sniggered silently.

"A Dark wizard," Ron explained. "He's the one who killed your parents when you were a baby."

Harry's jaw dropped from genuine shock and anger. He took deep breaths, his irritation raging through him. "Okay, that's it! I'm not hearing any more of this rubbish tale of yours!"

"Why not?" Ron asked, suddenly perplexed. "I'm beginning to like where this conversation is going, and now it's back again to square one."

Harry sighed, agitated. "You're telling me that I grew up not having parents, so I'm like a bloody orphan who likes half breeds and mudbloods?" He shot a glare at Hermione. "How many more offensive stories about me have you all got up your sleeves? Seriously, this talk is over!" He spun around and stormed away, cursing.

"No, Harry. You don't understand. Please listen!" Hermione begged desperately, trying to catch up with him, but she was suddenly thrown back by an invisible force. Smoke materialized between them and formed a barrier much like bars on a prison cell, forbidding Ron, Hermione, and Ginny to walk any further.

Harry was taken aback. "What's going on? What did you do, Granger?" He looked around himself in alarm.

"I didn't do anything," she said breathlessly, slowly standing up.

Nothing more seemed to be moving or appearing in front of Harry, so he took one step forward.

"Harry, stay with us please!" Hermione cried desperately while pounding at the barrier.

Harry wasn't listening; he took more tentative steps until he was a good foot away from the table. The object on its top was already recognizable; it was a basilisk fang. He took a deep breath and reached over to grab it. His fingertips were inches away when a cloud of gray smoke erupted from the ground; it rose higher and higher, taking the shape of a human. The figure hovered a small distance away from Harry, its face hidden in the shadows. Harry squinted at it, narrowing his eyes. The figure slowly drifted towards him until it took the shape of a face Harry could never forget in his entire life; it was the replica of himself.

Ron, Hermione, and Ginny stood transfixed as they stared at the scene unfolding in front of them. They could only guess that the Harry they knew outside of this world would show himself to his counterpart.

"Harry?" they called out in unison, pure shock on their faces. The figure made no move to acknowledge them; instead, his eyes remained transfixed upon Harry who had been scrutinizing the phantom's every feature.

His reflection's skin was very pale as if he had lost a substantial amount of blood; his dishevelled hair was sticking out in the oddest places; sweat glistened on his forehead; his emerald green eyes lacked its usual vibrant brightness and looked dull; the clothes he wore looked oddly large and baggy for him, and there was no doubt that he had lost considerable weight.

Harry realized that the figure seemed as though he were at the brink of death, and he couldn't help but grimace at the sight of this sickly version of himself.

The figure suddenly lifted his hand up, palm open, as an invitation. Harry looked suspiciously at the gesture. He could hear Ron, Hermione, and Ginny shouting at him from a distance.

"Don't take his hand!"

"Come back to us!"

"Don't do this!"

Harry furrowed his brow, annoyed at his stubborn competitors' logic and constant, annoying protests. How would he find out if this were just another task if he didn't take the person's hand? Feeling obstinate, he placed the tip of his fingers on top of the figure's. Harry's mind suddenly clouded with various kinds of unhappy memories that weren't his. He was so immersed in them that he could no longer hear Ron, Hermione, and Ginny's voices in the background.

Harry saw himself watching the phantom Harry being bullied. His misty mirror image dodged a stick from his cousin Dudley as his Aunt and Uncle verbally abused him and treated him as though he were worthless.

"Up! Get up! Now!" his Aunt Petunia commanded shrilly.

He was also scolded by his Uncle many times. "Go—Cupboard—Stay—No meals!"

Harry saw himself all alone, locked in a tiny cupboard beneath the stairs, with no loving parents to turn to. Harry, viewing each memory closely, felt an extreme anger pool inside him like acid towards these relatives. He had never met them in his world, save for muggle photographs, nor were they mentioned by his parents, but he was positive that no pureblood child should be treated like this. The poor kid didn't do anything wrong. Harry suddenly felt the sourness of disbelief that he was silently defending this other version of himself.

Before negative emotions bubbled up, the memories dissolved into new ones. This time, some students at Hogwarts such as Draco Malfoy, whom Harry was very familiar with, were bullying the other Harry, mocking him about his dead parents and scrutinizing his very existence. He tried to communicate with his old friend, but Draco only passed right through him to throw more remarks to the other Harry.

"Having a last meal, Potter? When are you getting on the train back to the Muggles?" Draco spat and cackled with his friends.

Another memory of Draco surfaced. "You know how I think they choose people for the Gryffindor Quidditch team? It's people they feel sorry for. See, first there's Potter, who's got no parents—"

Harry frowned. He had seen that side of Draco many times with other students whom he knew weren't magic worthy, but he never imagined himself being bullied by Draco himself. Why were they enemies in this world? He silently wondered as he turned his attention back to the other Harry who sent a look back at Draco that could kill. Harry noticed the other Harry's Gryffindor uniform. _No wonder they didn't get along well,_ he thought matter-of-factly.

The memory faded as quickly as it came, and another one revealed itself in front of him. Harry could tell that a professor by the name of Severus Snape had been hard on the other Harry, taking off points and treating him unfairly.

"Tut, tut—fame clearly isn't everything." Snape said with a sneer and added, "A point will be taken from Gryffindor House for your cheek, Potter."

Another memory of Snape appeared. "You—Potter—Why didn't you tell him not to add the quills? Thought he'd make you look good if he got it wrong, did you? That's another point you've lost for Gryffindor," he snarled at the young student.

Harry knew Severus Snape was never a professor at Hogwarts. He knew him as his godfather who was sweet and kind, unlike this one, apparently, in this twisted, warped reality. It struck him as horrible to even see Severus act this way to his students. He clearly knew how to turn someone's normal day to a bad one.

Harry considered speaking to his godfather after he finished all these tasks about this, and he wondered how his godfather would reply if he regarded him as a teacher at Hogwarts. Severus would probably just laugh it off and tell him he was crazy.

Harry witnessed many more detentions and punishments dealt by a select number of unfamiliar professors, many of which were severe, like the use of a blood quill.

"Yes, it hurts, doesn't it?" A professor with a toad-like face taunted. Her soft yet malevolent voice raised hairs at the back of Harry's neck.

He looked down and examined the other Harry's hand. Words formed that said: _I must not tell lies_. Blood oozed out of his skin.

"Good. That ought to serve as a reminder to you, oughtn't it?"

Harry's eyes widened as he watched, transfixed. He had never seen a quill like that before. What a horrible thing to experience in life. Harry was glad that he didn't have such a vindictive professor in _his_ school. He had never seen her toady face before.

Another memory materialized, and Harry saw people turned their backs on the other Harry instead of supporting him and his obvious talent. They called him a liar. But caught the faintest sense that these hypocrites around him lied to him as well, used him for their advantage. But they themselves had been tricked by some form of hidden enemies.

"Who put your name in the Goblet of Fire, under the name of a different school? I did," stated the man with a wooden leg, a magical artificial eye, and a large chunk taken out of his nose. His leer stretched into an insane smile. Without warning, he transformed into a different person Harry had the distant notion called Barty Crouch Jr.

Harry was pleasantly surprised to find out that this world also had Triwizard Tournaments but this was uncalled for. _Is this why the other Harry was famous in the world he was in?_ he mused.

A different memory surfaced. "Sirius is being tortured NOW!" shouted the other Harry.

"But if this is a trick of V-Voldemort's—" stuttered Hermione, who stood next to him looking extremely terrified.

Another memory replaced the last, showing Sirius Black falling through an archway and the other Harry crumpled to the ground with grief.

_Who is this Voldemort?_ Harry wondered, and as though his quiet question had been heard, a memory rushed forward, the image of a man whom he instantly perceived as "Voldemort" torturing the other Harry, attempting to kill him.

"Crucio!" The deep voice of Voldemort boomed. "I asked you whether you want me to do that again. Answer me! Imperio!"

Another memory rushed to flood his vision. "You won't say no? Harry, obedience is a virtue I need to teach you before you die… Perhaps another little dose of pain?" Harry saw green light in the background, and he instantly knew it was the deathly glow that only shone from the use of the Killing curse.

_So this was the Voldemort who Granger was talking about!_

Squinting, Harry quickly realized that many witches and wizards had perished, and as if their two beings were pooling together, he could sense the other Harry felt that he was to blame for their deaths. There would have been a war if this Voldemort had successfully attacked the other Harry when he was a baby. _No wonder he's got no parents,_ Harry thought to himself.

The last memory slowly swirled about his vision until finally settling in a candle-lit room with rows of potions staked high against the walls.

"Is there a way to fix a tainted soul, professor?" Harry asked a short man with silver walrus moustache.

"That I am not aware of," he told Harry. "The creation of a Horcrux is evil enough that all information about it was banned to the public, so I would presume that there is no such reference as to how to mend a soul under those circumstances. After all, as far as I know, no one has attempted to do it but only—"

"Would you know then, professor—" Memory Harry was sweating profusely now, his voice quivering slightly. "How—how long could the person live with a tainted soul? You said the lifespan would shorten drastically."

"A few months, but I can't really say how long for sure," the professor replied. "I can only assume that it's slow and excruciating and that you'd prefer to die quickly as time passes by."

Suddenly, Harry was thrust back into the dimly lit room as the shadowy figure broke the connection of memories and lowered his hand, staring at Harry once again. Harry felt an overwhelming rush of emotions in a span of a few minutes. The world which this figure lived in was so tragic and terrible that Harry was glad that he wasn't a part of it, but was he really certain to think that after what Granger and the other two told him?

Harry gazed up to his counterpart when the figure finally spoke, his voice monotonous. "Now that you know, which one is your truth?"

Harry noticed that the figure remained emotionless when he asked the question as if the pains and sufferings he experienced were all gone. Harry wondered whether the whole experience was just a part of the challenge he needed to undergo or that simply the figure really had lost the remaining life that was left in him.

Harry gave a startled look to Ron, Hermione, and Ginny when they took up their attempt to disrupt him.

"Harry, hear us out first please!" Hermione wept emphatically as tears cascaded down her face.

Harry saw the hopelessness in their distressed faces at the back of the room. He wanted to let them in but it was not up to him.

"We're telling you the truth!" Ron shouted.

"Please believe us, Harry!" Ginny cried desperately. "Give us a chance to prove it to you!"

Harry looked at them incredulously. He had never seen them so strained. They were usually either taunting, mocking or ignoring each other for who they were, but this was different. It felt as if their previous attitudes had merely been a facade, and now they all looked vulnerable. Normally, it would be quite entertaining for Harry since he didn't care for any of them. But for some reason, they all looked broken, and their sorrowful gazes were bothering him.

"He's only testing you, Harry." Hermione was hysterical now as her hands tightly gripped the bars that separated them from him as if trying to force them apart. "He only showed you pieces of bad memories, but there are so many more good ones that surpass all of those. You have friends that turned into families who love and support you in that world. You are an inspiration to all of us. Please believe us, Harry!"

Harry briefly remembered the Headmaster's words. "Do not lose your goal, and make sure to always see the reality of things. Certain situations will prevent you from moving forward; it will come down to how you choose to interpret the circumstances and the subsequent thoughts you choose to dwell upon. You will face your greatest fears, but don't let poor choices prevent you from making objective decisions. Take control, and don't lose your way. If stuck, you can always return from where you came."

"You've faced your fears many times, Harry," Ginny pleaded wretchedly, her hands flaring white each time she clenched the bars, trying to jerk them open wider, but they wouldn't budge. "This new reality you're running away from... Please don't let this get to you!"

Harry glanced at them and cocked his head. He wanted to believe them, but the life he had in this world was far more appealing. His parents were still alive, had friends who supported him as well, and never had enemies who tried to kill him. This life contained everything he ever wanted. He could never trade his reality for another as horrible as the other Harry's life.

But then again, abiding over all else, there were the desperate words of his competitors that, somehow, rang true.

"How do I choose?" Harry asked the figure. "What do I do?"

"You have the power to erase my existence and continue the life you've been living by piercing my form with this—" The figure made a slow hand movement which lifted the basilisk fang into the air. It made its way to Harry's opened hand. "Or pierce yourself and experience the life you saw instead. The choice is yours."

Harry's eyes glowed with a determination which signified that he somehow knew from the start which he had to choose. Ron, Hermione, and Ginny helplessly watched, horrified. They were like caged animals trying their hardest to break free and drag their comrade out of a death trap.

"I don't have the time to fool myself," Harry said coldly, smiling wickedly at the basilisk fang he held.

"Harry, please!" Hermione yelled at the top of her lungs in anguish. "Don't just think of yourself!"

"So, is that it?" Ron's desperation had grown into emphatic anger. "You're gonna let your selfishness take over without you even looking at the bigger picture?"

"Ron, stop it!" cried Hermione. "You're not helping!"

"I've seen enough, Weasley," Harry sneered. "And don't think so low of me."

"Oh yeah? Prove it then!" Ron challenged, his feet firmly planted on the ground, his eyes boring holes into Harry's. "We were there for you all our lives. We fought for what was right. Your parents sacrificed their lives to save you. I swore to myself that I would always cherish those moments and stick by you until the end. Go ahead, take the easy way out if you think that'll satisfy you, but no one lives a happy life entirely inside his comfort zone, mate!"

"Harry," Ginny started softly. "I know you've been given a comfortable life here, and that living anything else isn't on the top of your priority list because you already feel like everything's been given to you… even I would take something as safe in a heartbeat. But then, you've been shown a different scenario of what could have happened if you never had a comfortable life. I know you're certain and would unlikely choose that life but, that's the thing, you will never know how to fight for anything… You will never understand what is worth fighting for if you continue living in this world nearly as much as you would in the other."

Ron and Hermione murmured their agreement but Harry only shook his head. He sighed deeply.

"Ask yourself this, Harry," Hermione began in a low, pensive tone as she stared at the floor. "Have you ever had someone worth risking your life for?"

If he had heard her or cared at all for what she had said, Harry didn't acknowledge it, but he was silent about it. He was gobsmacked in the stomach to realize that he never once thought of having someone like a friend—but at least he had parents. He would surely risk his life for them, but somehow he felt like he was missing a valuable part of himself.

The deafening silence that followed felt eternal. "We do, and that's—you," Hermione stated, her voice brimming with conviction. No clever argument, no persuasive fact, nor theory could make a dent in her pithy statement, not even Harry who jerked his head up in surprise. Hermione leaned against the barrier, her energy slowly and visibly drained as she gave up on her fight with the magic bars.

"Why would you choose me?" Harry asked them, disrupting the silence.

"You're our friend. I know you would do the same for us," Ron answered succinctly.

"How do you know?"

"Because you already have many times," Ginny replied. "You've saved us."

"And we're saving you now," Hermione added with a small smile. "Even if it costs our lives."

"Why?"

"Because that's how much you mean to us," Ginny responded quietly. "We love you like family."

Harry shook his head. He didn't want to hear any of it anymore. There was no proof to support their claims. They were all convincing, but they were only giving him false hopes at ephemeral friendships, and they had got to stop with the pointless rubbish now. He had heard enough. He was done. He didn't want to listen any longer. _They obviously are just trying to make my life miserable because they have pathetic lives!_ he stubbornly thought to himself as he finalized his decision.

"No!" he shouted defiantly, his hand holding tighter the basilisk fang, ready to strike.

The air suddenly felt suffocating when Ron, Hermione, and Ginny all caught sight of his sudden movement, and as though in slow motion, their eyes opened wide with horror and pure fear when Harry raised his hand with the basilisk fang to the lone figure and—

"NOOO!" Ginny screamed. A horrified Ron stood dumbstruck, and Hermione experienced new, fresh tears erupting as she buried her face in her hands.

Because what Harry had just done could never be undone and would change the course of everyone's lives forever.

**To be continued...**

* * *

**Beta-read by Smthnborrowediamblue** , **KVeronicaP**


	21. Chapter 21

The Forbidden forest was black and deadly silent. The trees had grown closely together, their branches tangled, their roots gnarled and twisted underfoot. Every now and then, a ray of moonlight cutting through the branches lit a spot on the ground, casting an unearthly glow on a dozen or so hooded figures scattered around a clearing, some of their faces hidden behind their masks. They sat down with their backs against tree trunks, watching the light slowly fade into gloom.

Other living creatures such as the centaurs had stirred close by, but they didn't dare come close to the huddle of watchful Death Eaters who remained immobile and silent in each other's presence. The centaurs only observed them from afar, their eyes narrowed and gleaming with suspicion. It didn't take long for them to guess that something more was amiss, for they could see a human with red hair in a full body bind, squirming against a tree. They wondered what means and promises had lured the Death Eaters from their regular pursuits to join their leader and disturb the peace and quiet of the forest.

"Time's nearly up," said Corban Yaxley, lowering his hood. He was leaning calmly against a huge tree, smirking as his eyes lingered on a pained George Weasley kneeling beside him; his struggling body tensing at Yaxley's sudden announcement.

"Do you think they will come?" timidly asked one of the Death Eaters whose covered face sported a thin, black moustache.

Draco Malfoy shivered when a mild wind swept through them. He was positioned a few feet away from where Yaxley stood.

"They should, Macnair. My instruction was clear," he answered lazily. He glanced at Draco, tracking his squinting, cold, grey eyes through the dark, checking his surroundings for any movement.

Draco, who so far had remained silent for the duration of the meeting, chose that moment to speak. "Are you sure you have this place secured?" he asked with a curious gaze.

"Yes," drawled Yaxley, obviously bored. "I told you before; we have this place surrounded. They'll send me a signal if something happens."

Yaxley noticed Draco's look of discomfort in the dim moonlight, yet the young man's composure remained unchanged. Yaxley smirked maliciously though coming back to where the second war had taken place certainly triggered unwanted memories at the moment. His triumphant duel with George Weasley in the Great Hall at Hogwarts flashed fleetingly through his recollecting mind. If only his friend by the name of Lee Jordan hadn't helped in and interfered with the duel, Yaxley would have succeeded in disarming and casting a few hexes in George's direction. Instead, Yaxley had been knocked out and slammed to the floor.

 _But no matter,_ Yaxley said to himself, his evil smile widening when he glanced back at the squirming Weasley before him. _Fate must be in my favour tonight,_ he thought.

"Whatever it is you're planning, you'll never succeed," George hissed through clenched teeth as he tried to prevent the formidable monster of pain from overwhelming him. His face then morphed into a sneer. "Haven't you remembered anything from the war? You've lost, old man! Sooner or later you'll get caught and will rot in Azkaban!"

Yaxley's face hardened. He cocked his head and gazed mockingly at George. "Not when that precious Potter boy is dead. It's a shame your twin died before he might have witnessed that monumental moment. I do wonder how your parents will react when they find their other precious son dead. I hope they don't do anything rash—grief can make people behave in strange ways after all."

"Leave them out of this!" George rasped as he struggled against the bonds. Through his thrashing, he trembled from head to foot. "We can settle this ourselves."

Yaxley raised his eyebrows. "Struck a nerve?" he asked, his voice as smooth as honey. "I don't think you're in a position to bargain. Do you?"

"Why are you doing this, Yaxley? What do you think you'll gain? Admit it; you're doing this because you're hurt! You have no more power! Your master is dead, and you've got nowhere else to hide!"

"Yes, it was disappointing, to say the least," Yaxley agreed. He looked at George with mild amusement. "But no matter... It will be quite a show—and quite an irony—watching the perfect Boy-Who-Lived take his own life," he added nonchalantly.

"You're insane!" the Weasley spat back. "Harry would never do that!"

Yaxley smiled sickeningly. "Not without the help of the Imperius Curse."

George's body tensed with anger, and his brown eyes flashed with determination. "That won't have any effect on Harry."

"Maybe not the first strike," Yaxley agreed, as he stared into the depths of the forest, trying to spot lingering, audacious centaurs. "But how many are we?" He indicated the group of Death Eaters around him with a smooth hand motion. "We can get inside his head and offer him some useful suggestions. It shouldn't be hard. What shall I make him do? Get himself eaten by a giant squid?" Some of the Death Eaters laughed. Yaxley continued for their amusement. "… Drown himself in the lake? Cut his wrists? There are so many choices to consider. My, my, what will everyone say?"

George looked around at the hooded figures surrounding him. "Killing Harry won't make you happy again," he snapped. "It won't bring you satisfaction!"

Yaxley gave an exaggerated sigh. "Actually, it will," he returned, shifting to a snicker. "Especially if you're the one killing Potter under the Imperius Curse. Now that I think about it… that should perhaps do the trick, shouldn't it?" he asked his fellow Death Eaters who nodded their approval.

George stared at him in horror, shuddering at his words. "No, you wouldn't—" He tried to heave himself to his feet, but failed when the charmed rope that bound him tightened to prevent his movement. George groaned and grunted in pain as the rope cut into his skin.

"Enough tiresome talk," Yaxley spat out. "You and the rest of those blood traitors don't stand a chance. You might as well give up."

"Not until I see your stupid arse chucked in Azkaban where you truly belong!" George growled.

Yaxley chuckled. "Do you actually think that you can do anything considering the state you're currently in?"

"Believe me, you'll find out if you try and hurt the people I care about," he replied threateningly, glaring at him for a long moment as if daring Yaxley to act.

Yaxley squared his shoulders, narrowing his eyes. "I won't find out if you're already dead."

"Yeah… even if I'm dead, nothing would go back to the way it was for you, and I'm sure of it!"

"I wouldn't be too confident if I were you. The Dark Lord may have had presented himself as dangerous to the people that fear him, but his plan was what drove us Purebloods to come out and dominate Muggles and Muggle-borns—"

"You only joined him out of fear," George hissed. "And all of you were nothing but servants to him who are greedy for fame, wealth—"

The sounds of hilarity radiated from Yaxley and the Death Eaters as they laughed sardonically. "Well… who wouldn't want to be rich? I understand that you, being a Weasleys, surely have had your fair share of financial challenges… It must be embarrassing knowing you're a Pureblood yet your family just went down the drain, isn't it?"

"Don't you dare mock my family!" George snarled. "At least we know how to manage, and we're beyond happy despite our situation. Unlike you dimwits who groveled at You-Know-Who's feet in fear and asked for some stupid mercy or recognition that I doubt you'd gotten. What a bunch of pathetic—" His words suddenly cut off when an enraged Yaxley whipped out his wand and sent a Stinging Hex in George's direction. George could feel blood snake its way down his forehead from a newly created cut on the top of his head from that brutal show of force.

"All right down there?" Yaxley asked smugly, feigning concern. He bent over George, his blue eyes gleaming in the dark. George turned away but Yaxley's fingers wrapped around his neck, putting an unbearable pressure around his throat. George kicked helplessly and thrashed furiously, struggling to suck in air to breathe. Yaxley held him roughly by the jaw and forced him to look into his eyes. "You have no idea how much I want to cut out that tongue of yours to prevent you from speaking any more, but you have been very entertaining. You wouldn't mind getting hit by a few more hexes, then? It's purely for enjoyment, of course."

Draco and the other Death Eaters watched with bated breath, transfixed. No one moved; no one uttered a sound, not daring to interrupt Yaxley. Before George could respond, Yaxley sent a Severing charm at his chest, causing him to scream in pain. A red stain started to seep through his shirt, growing steadily larger and creeping across the fabric.

"Come on now… that wasn't too bad, was it?" Yaxley asked dramatically, a prominent sneer evident on his face. "It doesn't have to be this way—but I don't have a choice. You brought this on yourself!"

"What a pitiful scumbag you are!" George grit his teeth. His arms shook with anger as he tried to haul himself to his feet but to no avail; his knees buckled beneath him, and he collapsed to the ground, whimpering in pain.

Yaxley looked mildly amused. "That's what you get for your insolent tongue, boy. Never insult or wound our pride. We worked hard even before the rise of the Dark Lord. He saw our potential and gave us the power to rule and—"

George snorted despite his heavy breathing, interrupting Yaxley. "Yeah… the glory days surely paid off! 'Cause look where it got you now… back at your hellhole, hiding and running, scared of being caught!" he shouted, red-hot anger surging through him.

The thin line of Yaxley's mouth twitched, and a vein pulsated close to his temples. He flicked his wand and sent George crashing at a nearby tree, landing in a heap.

"Your resilience is admirable," said Yaxley, slowly striding towards him. "In fact, I think it may be one of the things I like best about you. It's only a pity that you can't appreciate the importance of continuing the Dark Lord's plans. A Pureblood like you should know its worth."

"I'm trying to see things from your point of view, but I can't stick my head that far up my arse!" George said sarcastically.

"What a disgrace!" Yaxley roared so unexpectedly that those assembled around him jumped, despite their abiding interest. "You will come to regret the choice you and your family have made. Sometimes you must trust that others know what's best for you," he growled. His face contorted as if he had a bad taste in the mouth.

George looked up to meet Yaxley's gaze. His jaw twitched. "I will regret nothing!" he confidently hissed with finality.

"Such a waste," Yaxley muttered under his breath, shaking his head. He clicked his tongue softly. "So be it. Crucio!"

George screamed even louder than before, and his anguished cries echoed throughout the forest. The bindings tore at George's skin, and his blood coated most of his clothes. He shook uncontrollably when Yaxley lifted the torture curse.

"Do you regret it now, boy?" Yaxley asked tauntingly. "That hurt, didn't it? You don't want me to do that again, do you?" He smiled indulgently.

George didn't answer. He breathed heavily and winced at the slightest movements, even more so when he brought himself to roll sideways.

"I asked you whether you want me to do that again," said Yaxley softly. "Answer me! Imper—"

But Yaxley's Imperius curse was broke off when he heard one of the Death Eaters's urgent voice. "They're here."

Yaxley spun around to the sound of cracking twigs and the nearby crunching of dead leaves. Yaxley's eyes glinted with a deadly glare. A rustle in the trees drove the Death Eaters to raise their wands. They surrounded George, hiding him completely from view. Draco stood up. They could hear faint galloping from the other side of the clearing, but no one came.

A minute passed, and more crunching noises announced the arrival of Hagrid followed closely by the Weasleys.

"Well... well... well," said Yaxley. His eyes searching for the boy he was eager to get his hands on. "I see you haven't brought Potter with you."

Arthur seemed unable to produce a word to explain the whereabouts of the boy. He and the rest of his family merely gave an expression of uncertainty and fear.

Yaxley gave an exasperated sigh. "It looks like you need to be reminded of what's at stake here." He snapped his fingers towards the Death Eaters who immediately parted to reveal George.

"Mum… Dad!" George choked in shock. He had never looked happier to see his family again, but his eyes shone bright with terror.

Molly and Arthur Weasley gave terrified gasps at seeing the crumpled and bloodied form of their son. Bill and Percy stood in horror behind their parents.

"George!" cried Molly. She dashed straight to him. Before she reached him, however, a loud bang echoed around them and she toppled onto the ground.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," threatened one of the Death Eaters with pockmarks all over his face, his wand raised.

Hagrid helped Molly and pulled her up behind him.

"Damn you, Rookwood!" shouted Percy, his wand threateningly held high. He trembled with rage as he sought the eyes of the ones who sent the curse at his mother from beneath their hoods. "I will bloody curse you to death for killing Fred!"

"I don't know what you're talking about, boy!" shrieked Rookwood on a cackle of mad laughter.

Yaxley laughed. "Oh, Percy... glad that you could join us. The Ministry has you working tirelessly, hasn't it?" He stared at him, the tip of his tongue moistening his thin mouth. "How's your head?"

Percy glared at him. "Better now that I could kill you!" he yelled angrily, maintaining his tight grip on his wand.

"Not until I kill you first," Yaxley replied, sounding maliciously delighted as he grinned mischievously. Several of the Death Eaters lowered their hoods and threw back their heads, howling.

"When will you stop screwing with us?" Percy hissed. "Is this the only way you can get a kick out of life? Are you really that pathetic?"

Quite suddenly, Hagrid launched himself across the ground and grabbed Rookwood around the knees, causing him to topple. Hagrid only stopped pounding the wizard into the dust when a dozen of Death Eaters pointed their wands at him. Knowing he was outnumbered, he reluctantly backed away.

Arthur and Bill similarly had their wands up in different directions, uncertain as to whom they ought to aim for. Arthur's gaze fell upon Draco, and he narrowed his eyes at him. Draco only raised his eyebrows and looked away.

"Can't we all just stay calm?" Yaxley softly stated. He cast his blue penetrating eyes around himself. "Although, I have to admit that I wasn't expecting such a large family reunion." He flaunted his wicked smile. "No matter… I say, drop your wands."

When none of the Weasleys moved, Yaxley pointed his wand threateningly at George. "Drop it now!"

After a moment of hesitation, four wands were laid on the ground.

Arthur's gaze travelled to the ground where George was lying. He met his son's eyes and saw his pained expression and the mutilated state he was in. Yaxley grinned at Arthur's rapidly changing expression; he looked confused at first, then angry, and then strangely blank, as if the broomstick ride of emotions hitting him was too overwhelming to manage. "What have you done to our son!" he then demanded, his jaw quivering with anger.

Yaxley shrugged. "It's not a big deal," he said matter-of-factly, sounding pleased with himself. "I was merely teaching him some manners because he was getting out of hand. Would you like me to demonstrate it again?"

Molly's eyes filled with alarm despite her efforts to appear somewhat composed.

"Point that wand at my son once again, and you won't see daylight!" Arthur said venomously, his right hand tightly gripping the wand he held. He glared at him like a ferocious animal, his blue eyes wide with rage.

The Death Eaters snickered around the small throng of arrivals. Yaxley gave a hollow chuckle. He cocked his head to one side and regarded Arthur with mild amusement. "Do you actually think that you can hurt me? Look around you. We have you outnumbered."

Arthur maintained his glare at him, his eyes burning with so much fury that even George stared horror-stricken and shocked at his father. "You'll find out if you try to harm him again!"

Yaxley burst out laughing. "You know… I've heard that line before. Like father like son, indeed. George is still alive, Weasley. I've kept my promise ever since I sent you that howler."

"And you settled by torturing him?!" Arthur yelled, shaking with fury.

Yaxley began to pace up and down before Arthur, a cruel smile twisting his face. He looked around himself as he casually paced. "Well, we don't know any other means to entertain ourselves while we patiently wait. Surely you understand that, don't you?" he asked in a soft voice that was all the more menacing because of it.

Molly was on the verge of tears, her gaze not leaving her son. "My son doesn't deserve this!"

"Oh, he'll live," Yaxely remarked coolly, his lip curling in an expression of mockery he'd worn too many times. "I've been merciful unlike the Dark Lord; I don't kill unless absolutely necessary."

"Why are you doing this?" Arthur whispered, his voice barely audible as he turned to look at him.

"Don't play dumb with me, Weasley. You know why."

"This is not the way to get what you want. Take me in exchange for my son and I'll do everything you ask of me."

For a moment Yaxley stood completely still. Then he walked lazily over to stand next to Arthur. "What I asked of you is very simple. But—" Yaxley flicked his wild eyes to gaze about his surroundings, searching. "Where is he? You couldn't possibly have forgotten to bring with you the famous Harry Potter."

"No—"

"So why didn't you bring him? My instructions were clear: if you want to see your son alive, bring Harry Potter here and you have until midnight."

"We can't—"

"Crucio!" Yaxley bellowed unexpectedly, his wand pointed directly at George who as a result, writhed and shrieked with pain.

"NO!" Molly screamed. Her maternal instincts forced her to viciously struggle hard from Hagrid's strong grasp, but he was able to keep her put within his strong arms.

Yaxley lifted the curse. George lay flat upon the ground, gasping. "Do you think this is a joke, Weasley?" he said dangerously to Arthur, twirling his wand idly. "Are you really going to mess with me? Cruc—"

Before anyone could stop him, Arthur charged forward and rammed into Yaxley with his right shoulder. Taken by surprise, Yaxley let go of his wand as the two tumbled backward onto the ground. Arthur swung, his fist connecting solidly with Yaxley's jaw, making a faint cracking sound. They tackled each other again, rolling over the ground as they struggled for control. Some of the Death Eaters pointed their wands at Arthur, but Yaxley gave a warning shout not to interfere. As soon as Arthur regained his composure for a moment by pinning Yaxley down as he landed another blow on him to stun him, an explosion of light suddenly flung him across a nearby tree, and he crashed onto the ground. In the confusion, Yaxley's hand had found his wand, and as he waved it, ropes materialized around Arthur, binding him to the spot.

Yaxley picked himself up and approached his opponent like a predator, waiting for the kill. "Crucio!" he yelled into the night, his eyes glinting with rage.

The rest of the Weasley family could only watch the scene before them helplessly. The Death Eaters had their wands still pointed at them, ready to strike if one of them dared to move to help their family member.

Arthur screamed as he writhed in pain. Yaxley lifted the curse, and Arthur struggled weakly against the restraints. Yaxley loomed above him, and his fist smashed into Arthur's jaw. A trickle of blood ran from his lip.

"Even if we bring Harry to you, it's pointless!" Bill said sharply, interrupting Yaxley. "He's unconscious."

Yaxley's eyes flared in the darkness. "Do I look like I give a damn what state he's in?" he replied coldly.

"Haven' yer done enough damage?" growled Hagrid, fixing him with a dark look. "He's already suffered so much!"

But Yaxley ignored him and faced Arthur with immense hatred. "You just gave me a reason to hurt your son even more," he seethed, his voice rising uncontrollably. "I think it's even better if I kill him now!" He raised his wand and pointed it at George once more, ready to cast the Killing curse. George threw an imploring look at his family.

A cackle of laughter was heard and Yaxley spun around to face Draco who jumped up and strode toward him.

With all eyes trained on him, Draco started, "Now, now… Do you want to ruin your chances of getting Potter?" he drawled. He was wearing his usual obnoxious sneer. "Have some patience."

Yaxley's blue eyes flickered to Draco, rage pulsing through his veins. "Patience?" he hissed, his free hand balling into a fist. "If Harry Potter isn't here, then the Weasley dies!"

"That is true…" Draco agreed slowly. "But I'm sure they would come up with something… unless—" He rounded and faced the Weasleys with a smirk on his face. "Potter is much more important than their own flesh and blood."

Arthur glanced at him. "Draco, I thought you've changed," he said. His mouth had gone dry. "We were trying to help you—and you're doing this?" he asked incredulously, his voice tinged with disappointment.

"We really shouldn't trust a Malfoy," piped Percy, his voice shaking. "You're just like your father!" he spat at Draco.

"I guess I am," he retorted. "But based on your current situation, I don't think you're in a position to insult me any further." A smile curled at the corners of his mouth. He looked vindictively at Arthur. "Do you really want your son to die, Weasley? Just give us Potter! Potter's going to die either way!"

Arthur didn't speak. He gazed blankly at Draco.

Yaxley clenched his teeth impatiently. "I'm tired of this unnecessary chatter!" He shot an angry look at George and pointed his wand towards him once again. "I'll just kill him off! There are more of you Weasleys, anyway—"

A rustle somewhere behind the Weasley family interrupted his snide remark. Yaxley whirled around to squint through the dark forest yet again. He could hear someone wailing. A terrible, drawn-out cry of misery and pain grew louder as it seemed to get nearer. Many of those around him looked startled, as they turned around to try to find the source of the anguished noise. It was difficult, at first, for Yaxley to make out more than a silhouette. As the shadow drew nearer, however, its face shone with great tears that ran down from its creased eyes.

"Horace Slughorn," Yaxley muttered under his breath. He raised his eyebrows in bewilderment. He and the rest of the Dark Lord's followers had been tracking down Slughorn for recruitment, but he had proved to be difficult to persuade. But what seemed to be the reason for suddenly showing up before the Death Eaters? Surely Slughorn wasn't there to join them and show his undying support for Yaxley's cause?

Horace Slughorn stumbled into the clearing behind the Weasleys, cradling a figure in his arms. A blanket covered most of the body, and only the person's lolling head could be seen. Slughorn could not move forward; he shook uncontrollably.

Most of the eyes around Yaxley followed Slughorn apprehensively. Yaxley squinted again for a single second and he walked toward Slughorn to see what was being presented in front of him. A chill settled over the group of people where they stood, and the Death Eaters' interest sharpened palpably.

Arthur stiffened, and Molly's eyes widened as her hand flew to her mouth. She backed away, her colour had turned ashen, and she looked like she was about to retch. Gasps erupted from the rest of the Weasleys. All the air seemed to vanish from their lungs. They stood, stiff as boards, petrified, as if they were unable to believe what they were seeing.

"No!"

"No!"

"Oh—oh—NO!" screamed Molly. She broke into a storm of tears and buried her face in Hagrid's arm as he stumbled forward, his eyes wide with terror.

"This couldn' be happenin'," he croaked. "Couldn' be!"

Slughorn looked up. "I—I couldn't save—" He shuddered uncontrollably, his eyes swollen, tears still spilling onto his cheeks and mustache. "I—I'm so sorry!" His knees buckled. He inhaled deeply before placing the body he was carrying onto the ground.

The dark shadows of a band of people crowded around him, pushing nearer until one of them shouted a shocking proclamation. His voice rang into the night:

"He's dead! Harry Potter! Dead!"

**To be continued...**

* * *

**Beta-read by Smthnborrowediamblue, KVeronicaP, be11atrix-the-strange**


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: I apologize if this chapter had taken longer to post than expected. My betas worked their magic to edit everything perfectly. I believe this chapter is what most of you have been waiting for. I truly hope I’ve written it the way it should. If not, oh dear...
> 
> Let the reading begin!

"He's dead! Harry Potter! _Dead_!" One, single word constructed of such simple letters, rebounded against the circle of trees. One of the Death Eater's voices had cut through the night as the surrounding people simply stood there, shaking their heads in disbelief and misery.

Arthur's eyes burned with an ache to sob as his stomach rocked back and forth on harsh waves of fear. Even though the temperature in the forest was warm, he felt cold inside. Everything seemed unreal and distant. Happiness lurked as a memory, an illusion slipping further out of reach. He painfully watched Hagrid fall to his knees, gazing at Harry's lone figure on the ground as Harry lay, eyes closed and body unmoving. Harry was as lifeless as the fallen leaves, brittle with death, that surrounded him. No further harm could come to him now, but Arthur felt anger throb and course inside of him. _How could I have let this happen?_

"No... H-Harry..." Hagrid's loud sobs, that wrenched his companion's hearts, echoed around the forest. "Yer t-told me yer'd be okay. This time—" Instinctively, he reached out his hand and gently stroked Harry's face. After a while, he slowly grabbed a portion of the blanket wrapping Harry's body and covered Harry's face beneath it. Hagrid continued to sob beside him; his tears splashed onto the blanket. The painful howling tore through the hearts of the Weasleys, especially Molly, who shook uncontrollably beside him, her tears also pouring endlessly. The Death Eaters began milling about themselves in congratulations as the news spread around them.

Slughorn sat stunned on the ground, his eyes unfocused and distant. Arthur couldn't help but wonder what had happened the moment he and the others had left the confines of Shell Cottage to venture to the Forbidden Forest. _Has the ritual failed?_ His heart constricted painfully when he thought of his children. _What happened to Ron, Ginny and Hermione? How are they now?_ Panic engulfed him as countless unanswered questions kept popping onto his mind. He bit his lip nervously and inhaled deeply, desperately trying to get rid of the horrible feeling clinging to his inner core. _They aren't dead,_ he assured himself firmly, the resolute voice in his head bringing some form of solace to his terrified mind quickly filling with horrifying thoughts. His worries were interrupted, however, when he heard Yaxley's voice breaking the loud sobbing noises of Hagrid.

"Oh, what a glorious night it has been!" He sounded enthusiastic, making his cheery yet malevolent tone feel strikingly out of place for this grief-stricken occasion. He beamed at the scene in front of him. "Finally, The-Boy-Who-Lived is dead!" He cackled heartily at his glorious proclamation. The Death Eaters did the same; some even whistled and jeered. He stared at the Weasleys, his eyes sparkling with pleasure. "You don't know how I've longed for this moment to happen, and at last, it has come! And you, Slughorn—" He turned his gaze to the plump figure sitting on the ground whic'h gave no effort to look up to his eyes. "I couldn't express my appreciation for bringing the boy here, even though he was already as dead as a doornail."

Hagrid growled loudly and glared at Yaxley with extreme hatred in his eyes. He clenched his fists hard, his knuckles turning white. Arthur could tell that Hagrid would soon lose the control he had been attempting to maintain from the moment they stepped foot in the forest, especially since the very person Hagrid had called and cared for as a son lay before him, lifeless.

Yaxley didn't seem to care how Hagrid may have looked in his direction when he continued speaking. "What shall we do with his body?" he asked his fellow Death Eaters, who stared hungrily at the motionless body of Harry. "Shall we follow the footsteps of the Dark Lord and perform tricks as well? Like the last time he attempted to kill the boy in this very spot?"

The Weasleys stared at each other in confusion. Arthur's brow furrowed as he tried to assess what Yaxley was about to do. He hadn't had a clue what he meant by "perform tricks", but he perceived Hagrid's eyes shining with terror when the latter glanced in his direction and back at Yaxley's. "Don't you dare touch him! H-Harry's—" Hagrid was at a loss for words. By the looks of it, whatever Hagrid had seen in this spot during the Battle of Hogwarts had built up an immense amount of fear.

Yaxley and the Death Eaters burst into maniacal laughter. "Come on now, half-breed. You wouldn't want to prevent us from having a go at him. The boy won't feel a thing, even if I cast the Cruciatus curse on him, would he? No... because he's DEAD!" he yelled into the night, sending chills down Arthur's spine.

"Yeah," Rookwood taunted. "He would only be a stupid, defunct wizard as we toss him into the air." More chortles escaped from the Death Eaters' lips.

"You got what you wanted, so leave him be!" yelled Percy, his face reddening with anger.

"And you think humiliating a dead person just to prove your victory is a good way to go about it?" George added, hissing in disgust. Blood had stopped seeping through his shirt, and he was able to sit and lean against the tree trunk for support.

"You should be aware by now how this works," Yaxley reminded George coldly. "Haven't you learned anything from the torture sessions you were put through? You know full well how we intend to play with The Chosen One. Although I have to admit, I was slightly disappointed with the turn of events. Casting the Imperius Curse would be pointless now, but aren't you glad you won't be doing it? No matter..." he trailed off; his eyes slid into a daze for a second as though he was attempting to come up with a more entertaining idea.

"Shall we proceed, then?" Macnair asked eagerly while twirling his wand menacingly. He licked his lips with glee.

Hagrid clenched his jaw and pointed his finger threateningly at the Death Eater. "You dare cast a spell and I swear—"

Yaxley responded with a resounding cackle. "Such anger..." Relish dripped through his silky voice. "I love it! Let me provoke that, shall I?" The Death Eaters straightened themselves as though preparing for the right signal; some even stretched from where they sat.

"You disgusting filth!" Molly cried. She tried to tear herself from the arms of Bill, who immediately restrained her when she made a move.

Yaxley gave a delighted laugh, and he quickly turned to face his Death Eaters with interest. "I say... Procee—"

"Surely..." Draco interrupted in his drawling voice. He lazily glanced at Yaxley. "This is not the best time and place to perform such exciting tricks."

Yaxley spun around, eyes narrowing as he stared at Draco's grey eyes. "Not the right—you must be out of your mind," he hissed. "Now is as good a time as ever to have fun, Draco. Tell me, don't you wanna have a go with him? I see that you crave it."

Draco snorted. "You have no idea how long I've waited," he said slowly.

"So, what's with the holdup?"

He sighed. "If you truly want to feel the thrilling sensation of humiliating Potter's body even more, I suggest you do it where all the Wizarding World can see. Do it in Diagon Alley where it's always crowded or anywhere public if you must."

The Weasleys gasped, and Hagrid grunted in infuriation.

"How dare you!" Molly screamed, her hands shaking with rage. She had stopped her sobs briefly enough to glare at Draco.

When Yaxley only raised his eyebrows, Draco continued. "Can't you see? You need a bigger stage to show how victorious we truly are! I'm telling you, it's going to be so worth it! Unless, of course, you're satisfied with this crowd." He gestured at the Weasleys, who wasted no time in throwing him hateful looks.

Yaxley seemed to be considering his idea he didn't speak for a moment. Most of the Death Eaters gave an exasperated sigh when their excitement had been stopped.

 _How could he do this?_ Arthur seethed within himself. "Harry saved your life, Draco! How could you do this to him! You ungrateful son-of-a—"

"I already paid my debt, Weasley," he snarled. "And why do you even care what I do? He's dead!" He quickly sent a glower at Arthur. "There's really nothing else you can do but take your precious son and leave! Your bloody business here is finished!" He released Arthur from the Body-Bind he was in and Accio'd the Weasleys' wands to his opened hand.

Arthur's jaw dropped. He stood up shaking and walked slowly toward the rest of his family.

"Leave?!" Molly snapped. "You expect us to accept and leave just like that?" She looked incredulously at Draco's piercing gaze.

"No!" Hagrid stated defiantly. "If we're leaving, we're taking Harry's body with us!"

"Are you all deaf?" spat Draco. "I said, your business with us is finished! Take your brat and go!" he yelled.

Molly stood fixedly on the spot. "And I said n—"

"ENOUGH!" bellowed Slughorn, taking everyone by surprise. His face shone with great fury, a side of him that no one had witnessed before, even Molly, who backed away a few steps. He stared at the Weasleys whose faces showed their great confusion at his sudden outburst. "All of you," he finally continued loudly. "Please be rational about this! George is alive, and can't you all be grateful about it for one second? Think about his—or better yet— _our_ safety if you decide to stay!"

Yaxley applauded Slughorn's opinion of the matter. "Finally, someone's thinking logically." He darted a smirk at Slughorn who frowned at him. "Get it over with!" He nodded his head toward Draco, gesturing for him to do something.

"But, what about Harry?" Bill protested to the rest of his family. "We can't just leave him with these disgusting animals!"

Draco released George from the Body-Bind and pulled him strongly in his arms, making him unsteady on his feet when he stood. They, along with Yaxley, Rookwood, and Macnair slowly made their way toward the Weasleys to begin the exchange while Slughorn attempted to do the same. He scooped Harry into his arms, ignoring the wild pleas from Molly, Arthur, and Hagrid who gathered in the hopes of blocking his way to Draco.

"Don't do this, Horace," Molly pleaded, her eyes streaming with tears again.

"I have to, Molly," Slughorn responded solemnly. "I couldn't save Harry, but we can save George."

"We know that, but we can come up with a better plan," Arthur begged quickly. "We still have time to—"

"I'm sorry," he interrupted. He heaved a heavy sigh and gazed at Arthur with the sincerest look of apology he could muster while walking away from him. "I really am."

Arthur glanced towards George and back again at Harry's limp form in Slughorn's arms. He knew he had to prioritize his son's well-being, but abandoning Harry's body to be desecrated by the Death Eaters was just wrong. "Horace... please... let's think about this for a moment," he said desperately.

"We don't have much time," was Slughorn's only melancholy reply. He kept walking towards Draco who had his wand pointed directly at George's neck. Molly's sobs echoed around the clearing. Hagrid and the Weasleys stood from a distance, watching Slughorn pause with trepidation a good meter away from Draco.

Yaxley eyed Slughorn, the bearer of Harry's body, with malignant pleasure. He smiled wickedly while twirling his wand. Arthur's heart beat faster and faster when Slughorn slowly took another step toward Draco. Time seemed to freeze for the moment when the two of them stared at each other, as though calculating their every movement. Draco's grey eyes twitched slightly, and Arthur could not bear it any longer; something must be done; he must act —

And then many things happened at the same moment.

No one had anticipated Draco's sudden yell that pierced through the night. "NOW!"

A mixture of shock and confusion flitted across Yaxley's features when he heard loud war cries from the distant boundary of the Forbidden Forest. What sounded like a large group of people swarmed through the old entangled trees, coming closer into the forest.

Without hesitation, Draco suddenly pushed George towards Slughorn roughly, making George stumble a little. Molly and Arthur dashed towards their son straightaway and pulled him back to where Bill, Percy, and Hagrid stood waiting worriedly.

A chilly breeze swept through where he stood, lifting the hair at the back of Arthur's neck, and with wide eyes, he saw Harry's body jerk forward. In a matter of seconds, before anyone could even comprehend what took place, Harry stood firmly on the ground with his wand held high and pointing straight at Yaxley's face, as the Death Eaters stumbled back from their places, dumbfounded. "What the—" began Yaxley, though his exclamation were instantly interrupted when Harry roared "Expelliarmus!" into the night.

"Accio wands!" Draco shouted instantly. Fifteen or so wands zoomed straight to his open arms, except for Yaxley's whose quick reflexes had him gripping his tightly. He unfortunately hadn't been able to avoid the powerful force of the Disarming spell, which sent him flying across the clearing until he hit the ground.

"Stupefy!" Draco continued, pointing his wand at Macnair, who was blasted backwards, flailing and writhing through the air before slamming into a nearby tree. Draco immediately sent Stunning Spell after Stunning Spell at all the Death Eaters he could lay his eyes on, not stopping until he made sure they were all unconscious. He dodged as spells zoomed in his direction. He ran towards the shocked Weasleys and tossed them back each of their wands.

"There are not many of them left," Draco informed Arthur quickly. "I'm sure I've stunned most of them—the group of Death Eaters present here at least—but the rest of them are scattered farther out from here."

A look of understanding dawned slowly on Arthur's features as well as on Bill and Percy, who wasted no time in springing up to protect their family as they squinted through the dark, determined to blast the Death Eaters who had scattered and fled in an attempt to either fight or hide before they were Stunned.

But Arthur's mind still reeled with what had occurred minutes ago. He couldn't believe what he was seeing right at this moment; Harry was alive and fighting off the Death Eaters like he hadn't gotten sick in the first place. He looked somewhat healthy, and no trace of weariness or illnesses were present. How hadn't he noticed it before when Slughorn brought him to the forest? Was he missing something?

"Look out!" Bill exclaimed loudly. Spells flew past him and his family and they all ducked simultaneously to avoid getting hit.

Arthur sighed. He couldn't afford the time to get to Harry without being blasted off by Death Eaters. Instead, he looked up at Draco inquisitively. He knew it was stupid, but he was determined to get an answer that maybe he could only provide. "Harry—is he truly—" But he wasn't able to get a reply when Draco hurriedly dashed away to track down more Death Eaters who had scurried away on the other side. Arthur frantically looked left and right to see where Harry had gone, but he had disappeared into the darkness of the night. His musings abruptly broke off when he heard a shout of fury behind him.

"DRACO!"

They saw Yaxley getting to his feet, his hand clasping his wand. His eyebrow was cocked like a blade, and a look of pure fiery hatred was forming in his features.

"What have you done?!" he yelled, furious, his eyes fixed on the white blond-haired young man.

But Yaxley's change of demeanour didn't affect Draco at all. "Oh, did I do something wrong?" he jeered. "I thought I was helping."

Yaxley's eyes flashed with anger as he glared at him. "Do you think this is funny?!"

Draco merely shrugged. "What else would it be?"

"You think you can do whatever pleases you?" Yaxley said loudly. "Stunning my Death Eaters one by one. I have more than you'll ever know!"

"Oh, please!" Draco drawled, crossing his arms. "Don't give me that rubbish! We both know you have few followers left, and more than half of them are bloody unconscious right now."

Yaxley narrowed his eyes. "Don't be so sure of our numbers!" he said sharply.

"Oh, I'm sure," Draco replied with a smile.

Yaxley's eyebrow twitched slightly. "I still have them stationed elsewhere and waiting for my signal."

"Are you sure about that?" Draco's voice shook with malicious pleasure.

Yaxley's chest rose and fell rapidly. For a moment, relief dawned on his face when, very slowly, hooded figures started emerging out from the darkness. But when he saw the rest of those fellow Death Eaters closing in and being held and dragged by none other than the Aurors—a herd of centaurs armed with bows and arrows—and the members of Dumbledore's Army, he let out a howl of rage.

Arthur could recognize a few familiar faces among the members of Dumbledore's Army, some of whom were Gryffindors, including Angelina Johnson, Alicia Spinnet, and Katie Bell, whom Fred and George knew from Quidditch, along with their close friend Lee Jordan. There were more of them, at least fifteen whom Arthur didn't recognize, but a firm look of purpose to help fiercely hardened their faces. Their wands pointed straight at the caught Death Eaters.

"You're too late," said Draco, grinning wildly. "You've missed your chance of sending the signal. They overpowered the hidden Death Eaters right when the Weasleys entered the scene."

The Weasleys looked at one another, bewildered. Arthur raised his eyebrows in confusion as he tried to put two and two together. Was all of these already planned out by Draco? But when did that happen? Yaxley blinked, taken aback at the sudden revelation that hit him like a tidal wave. "How could you have known that?"

Draco laughed softly. "I just so happened to have a communication device that would let me know immediately if something is up. It's very useful."

Yaxley looked confused at him for a moment. "Device? I didn't see you leave or talk to anyone else from the whole duration of our stay here in the forest."

"I had it all planned out, Yaxley. After you kidnapped the Weasley," he replied casually as though they were discussing things over butterbeer and biscuits. "Of course you wouldn't know a thing because you're a complete idiot. Why would you choose the Forbidden Forest in the first place? Do you really think the creatures living here are scared of you? Ha, what a gigantic ego you have! Anyway—" He took out a round-looking object from his pocket. "The device I'm talking about is a coin that would warm up to alert me. It's pretty cool actually."

"You bloody traitor!" Yaxley shrieked, shaking with anger. "I knew I shouldn't have trusted you from the beginning. You and your parents are meddlesome fools!"

Draco couldn't hide his smirk. "Yeah... you just went along when I agreed quickly to your idea. I knew full well that you wouldn't stand a chance." He laughed.

"You will regret choosing the other side!"

"Do I look like I regret it?" he asked with pleasure in his voice. "No... I don't think so, Yaxley, because I will enjoy choosing the other side immensely while you rot in Azkaban!"

"How dare you!" he hissed. He clenched and unclenched his free hand with pulsing fury.

"You have nowhere else to go, Yaxley. It's about time to surrender!"

Yaxley shook with fury, and Arthur saw his hand twitch as though he was ready to send a hex in Draco's direction. His eyes went wide when he heard Yaxley yell, "Avada Ked—" but the Killing curse was cut off when they heard someone shout—

"Stupefy!"

A jet of red light shot out from a wand behind Yaxley, and he was thrown forward onto the clearing—Draco avoiding him by mere inches—and he crashed down, landing in a crumpled heap on the ground. The Weasleys turned their heads altogether and saw Harry's wand raised.

Draco walked slowly to where Yaxley lay panting, "One piece of advice, Yaxley... Don't go making friends with the wrong sort." He smiled at the Death Eater, whose face was livid. The Aurors immediately surrounded and subdued him. With one last, incensed stare at Draco, he was roughly grabbed by his arms and taken away out of sight along with the rest of the Death Eaters.

Except for the centaurs, Kingsley and all the members of Dumbledore's Army remained behind. They rushed to the aid of the Weasleys, and Arthur wasted no time in finding out more of what had transpired behind the scenes. Before he could ask questions, however, he was greatly astounded to find Draco kneeling in front of him and the rest of the Weasleys, his face wearing a mixture of remorse and worry. Arthur and Molly stood still, not daring to believe that Draco would willingly express this kind of sentiment outside his small circle of family and close friends. _What a humbling gesture,_ Arthur thought to himself as he gazed at the young man on the ground.

"For all the harsh words that I've said regarding Potter and your family... I didn't mean any of it—" Draco caught himself and shook his head. His face was paler than usual, and there were faint circles under his eyes—the only signs of distress. "I'm really sorry for everything that my parents and I have put you through."

The Weasleys gaped at his words. It was unforeseeable. They were speechless. In his entire life, not once had Arthur heard a Malfoy ask for forgiveness; it was usually the opposite. He thought this day would never come, but at that moment, he was left completely flabbergasted. So many thoughts raced through his mind. How was he going to take it when a family such as the Malfoys who had led their life on authority and prestige suddenly ridded themselves of their power and try as best they could to change for the better?

"I'm sorry." Draco repeated those words again and again.

Molly—having been angry at him earlier—looked into his grey eyes, tremendously filled with concern that she couldn't stop the tears from cascading down her face.

"We never should've treated you all like—" He couldn't seem to say the words. "I'm so sorry." They heard his voice break. He swallowed hard and looked at his hands. "I'll do whatever it takes to make it up to you all, I'll—"

Molly and Arthur silenced him with their hands gently stroking his back as they kneeled before him. "You're forgiven, son," Arthur responded softly. "We just want to forget that it ever happened."

Draco looked upon their faces filling with sympathy and compassion. "Of course," he said, "whatever you want."

Arthur and Molly smiled at him sincerely as the three of them stood up.

"I thought you'd forever be an annoying ferret," George piped up from behind his parents. "Thank goodness you've got sense." All of them laughed, including Kingsley and the members of the DA.

Molly cast him a hard look. "Stop it, George!"

"But, it was true, mum," he argued. "If he hadn't redeemed himself until now, I don't want to think of what I'd do to him." There were murmurs of agreement around him.

"He'd be doomed," Lee Jordan agreed from behind George.

"I wouldn't want to mess with you lot," Draco admitted quietly. "I've had enough terrifying pressures to last me a lifetime."

"'Terrifying pressures,' you say?" Bill scoffed.

"With at least twenty of us against one," said a stout-looking boy with blondish hair. "I'm glad you know how that's gonna go for you."

More laughter brightened the atmosphere throughout the clearing. "Too right, Ernie," a pink-faced girl with blonde hair agreed.

Draco bowed his head in defeat.

Arthur raised his finger to silence them. His expression hardened with seriousness as he glanced at Draco. "Speaking of which, how did all of this happen?"

"It was all Draco's plan," Kingsley answered him, and Arthur saw Draco give a sigh as if relieved that the Minister was speaking on his behalf. "Apparently this is how he properly wanted to pay off his life debt to Harry."

With his brows furrowed, Arthur turned to Draco and asked, "What do you mean? You already did when you told Harry about a certain cave in Ireland, didn't you?"

Draco curtly nodded. "Yes, that was my initial plan... but I feel like it wasn't enough. Saving one's life isn't easy, but Potter had risked his own to make sure I survived—even Weasley agreed to help out. It was too much for me to handle the guilt. There was nearly nothing I could do in my power to repay Potter's willingness to put his life down for me... so when I found out that Yaxley went ahead and kidnapped you—" He glanced at George. "I knew I had to do something to properly pay my debt not only to Potter but also to the Weasleys."

Arthur could see the gratitude on Draco's pale face, and he immediately understood his will to act and help out as much as he can.

"Since Draco has to report to the Ministry every day as part of his on-going probation," Kingsley continued for him. "He immediately alerted the Auror's department of what had happened to your son." He cleared his throat, and Arthur noticed Kingsley's sudden change of demeanour, he now looked apologetically in his direction. "Even before we talked in my office, Arthur, Draco and I had already devised a plan, and I purposely hid it from you. I'm sorry... but I had to make this plan work, and without your knowledge, the chances of a successful plan were high."

Arthur looked at him with confusion. "How was not telling me the right thing to do?" he asked.

"Your reactions." When none of the Weasleys understood his concise answer, he elaborated. "Draco and I had to make sure you had no idea what was about to take place. For starters, Draco had suggested to use the help of Dumbledore's Army. He gave me the names of the members, and we quickly contacted Neville Longbottom—as I recalled him being at St. Mungo's during the time Yaxley made a dramatic announcement. Neville went ahead and told the rest of the group of the plan. Draco knew where exactly the Death Eaters would be stationed around the forest, as he was the one who suggested it to Yaxley."

Draco smirked at the recollection. "I still can't believe Yaxley agreed to that. Am I really that trustworthy?"

Hagrid snorted.

"Not really," George, Bill, and Percy replied simultaneously. The DA members sniggered in the background.

"Anyway," Kingsley interrupted them. "The centaurs were a great help. They know the forest by heart and know exactly to where the Death Eaters would disappear if they tried to run. Very unfortunately for Yaxley, Draco had placed a charm so no one could Disapparate from inside the forest. Since there are a lot of us, including the Aurors, the Death Eaters surrounding the forest were quickly outnumbered. They tried to run, but seriously, who would want to wander around the forest in the middle of the night?"

"It's not safe!" Angelina Johnson remarked loudly, and George nodded quickly in agreement.

"Exactly," Kingsley agreed. "It never is safe to wander in this forest. Good thing we had the centaurs guiding us through. We kept a close eye on what had been happening after we gathered all the stationed Death Eaters and knew you had come when Mr. Finnigan here—"

Seamus smiled at the mention of his name by the Minister.

"—alerted us through this coin when it grew warm." He held up the fake Galleon in his hand and showed Arthur and the rest of the Weasleys.

"Very clever," Arthur stated approvingly. "I've never seen that before."

"It was Hermione who created it," replied a dark-haired girl wearing a silver necklace with the letter "P" hanging from a chain around her neck. Her twin nodded her head in agreement.

"And then what happened, Kingsley?" Molly asked eagerly.

"Then it was our cue for Slughorn to interrupt Yaxley before anything got out of hand," he answered. Slughorn smiled weakly at the Weasleys before Kingsley continued with another apologetic look on his face. "This was the hardest part, and we had to make sure that Slughorn could do it."

"Do what?"

"All I can say is," said Slughorn. "It was worth a try. I've never shed that many tears in my whole life."

Kingsley couldn't help but smirk at Slughorn's jest before returning his gaze to Arthur and Molly. "Your initial reaction when you saw Harry's lifeless body and Slughorn's howling sobs."

Arthur's brow furrowed as he tried to remember the events of what had happened earlier.

"We couldn't risk you giving away the only thing we were trying to keep secret."

"You have no idea how much of a relief that was when I saw Harry alive and well," Arthur admitted.

"That was done really well, professor," Percy said with admiration. "The acting. You had us all worried."

"We were all terrified," Hagrid stated. "'Specially me. I thought 'Arry was really dead."

"Where's Harry?" Molly looked around herself and spotted him fiddling with all the Death Eater's wands he took from Draco. "Oh, there you are!" She walked toward him and gave him a tight hug.

"Harry," Arthur called out softly from behind him. His eyes shone with deep relief just from seeing him standing there with them. "We're so glad you're okay." But Harry's tentative reaction bemused Arthur. He couldn't quite tell what was wrong. "Harry?"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Weasley, but I'm—"

"What are you sorry for, dear?" Molly asked, her face full of concern.

Kingsley checked his watch. "The time's up."

"For what?" Arthur asked, bewildered. He thought everyone—except for him, his family, and Hagrid—seemed to know what was going on. No one in the DA or even Kingsley made a move or said anything. Alarm grew in the pit of his stomach as he waited for Harry to speak. When he turned his head back to look at him, his eyes went wide and his mouth opened in shock—he was no longer looking at Harry, but—

"Neville?"

**To be continued...**

* * *

**Beta-read by TeachUsSomethingPlease, be11atrix-the-strange, Smthnborrowediamblue, KVeronicaP**


	23. Chapter 23

Mrs. Weasley had a hand pressed to her mouth as if to hold back a gasp.

"Neville?" Percy asked as he locked eyes with him, stunned. He and Bill held George on either side of him, and from a closer look, Neville could see the damage George had suffered from Yaxley and the Death Eaters. He couldn't help but cringe at the sight, for he could see a deep gash on his forehead where blood, now dried, had spread all over his face, and his blood-soaked shirt, he supposed, covered more wounds underneath.

"Er... hi," he greeted them sheepishly, an embarrassed look creeping onto his face. His heart pounded in his ears while his stomach twisted with ice. Neville had expected their shocked reactions; even he had the same reaction when he found out from the Minister about Harry's terrifying illness. He thought at first he had heard him wrong, knowing full well that Harry was only poisoned by Yaxley at the time Neville visited his parents with his grandmother at St. Mungo's Hospital. He hadn't known how grave it truly was until the Minister had confirmed it himself. Harry deserved all the help he needed, and Neville would do anything to contribute without second thoughts.

"What's going on?" Mr. Weasley questioned at once. His expression turned from shock to bewilderment, but his gaze at Neville didn't waver.

Lines creased around the corner of Mrs. Weasley's suspiciously looking eyes. "Why were you pretending to be Harry? Where is he?"

Neville knew he wouldn't be able to avoid getting bombarded with questions as soon as he had agreed to Malfoy's scheme. Red-faced, he quickly eplained. "I'm sorry... But for the plan to work, I just had to." And as an afterthought, he added in a whisper, "It wasn't really my idea; it was Malfoy's."

All eyes fell on Malfoy **—** who remained unperturbed but hunched over as if an invisible weight rested on his shoulders **—** and then at the Minister and back again to Neville as though waiting for more clarification on the matter.

"That's quite correct," Minister Shacklebolt stated in a matter-of-fact tone. "We couldn't risk putting Harry in the middle of all that chaos. I'm sure you'd agree with me for making that decision, Arthur?"

"Yes, of course," he replied slowly, but his eyes, teeming with bewilderment, brimmed with just how many questions he still had in mind. "Facilitating anything to help Harry is one of our main priorities. But I can't deny that I was astounded by all that has happened. How did you come up with all of this, Draco?"

Malfoy glanced up, his grey eyes growing pensive for a second. "When I found out that Yaxley had a huge stock of Polyjuice potion that he was keeping at his hideout, I thought I'd use it."

Mr. Weasley frowned. "And he had no knowledge of you stealing from him?"

He shook his head, and with an embarrassed look, he added in a dull voice, "I'm pretty good at sneaking stuff out."

Some of the DA members grinned at Malfoy's confession, but Percy and Hagrid only raised their eyebrows. Neville let crack a small smile, he could vividly picture Malfoy doing a lot of sneaking around when they were back at Hogwarts, but he remained quiet.

"And then what happened?" Mr. Weasley queried impatiently. "If I'm correct, you had to at least have procured part of Harry's body to add to the brew, isn't it?"

"Yeah... that," Malfoy replied hesitantly. He lowered his gaze with another embarrassed look. "I want you all to know that it wasn't really my intention to invade Potter's privacy, but we had no choice. We had to get at least few strands of his hair for Longbottom to pretend to be Potter. It was a stupid idea, but that's the only way I could think of without Yaxley getting suspicious of my plans."

George's ears perked up. "No, it wasn't," he countered with a lopsided grin spreading across his face before wincing in pain and clutching his stomach. "It was actually a brilliant plan coming from you all," he added, his voice hoarse and weak. "You had us all fooled."

Malfoy smirked at George's compliment. "Yeah... Well, I didn't know Longbottom could actually do his part well, too."

Neville let out a breath in a quick huff. "It wasn't hard pretending to be Harry when all I do was close my eyes and act like I was dead. But when casting spells, I wasn't confident enough though." He gave a small smile. "Good thing all worked out fine in my opinion!"

"Yes, Mr. Longbottom," the Minister praised. "Don't underestimate your skill. It takes great courage to be able to fight."

The DA members patted Neville's back, admiring the recollection of his spellwork, knowing full well how much difficulty he had experienced during their fifth year meetings.

"But how did you get Harry's hair?" Bill gave Neville and Malfoy questioning looks. "I'm sure that you had no idea where he's staying, as I haven't told anyone else apart from a chosen few."

Malfoy flashed his gaze at Neville as though encouraging him to speak on the matter.

Neville turned crimson on the spot and squirmed a little. He eyed his shaking hands as he spoke. "People outside St. Mungo's swarmed to get in after Yaxley gave a speech about uniting Death Eaters and killing Harry. I—I heard Hermione mention a place where they can hide Harry. I actually couldn't remember the whole name of the place, but Luna—"

"Luna?" Mr. Weasley asked earnestly with a furrowed brow. "Xenophilius's daughter?"

Neville nodded, and Mr. Weasley craned his neck to search for her among the people gathered in the forest at the moment. "Where is she?"

"She's looking after them, Arthur," Slughorn replied quietly.

Neville saw Mr. Weasley's eyes flicker as realization dawned on him. "Harry... Ron—"

"Yes. I unfortunately had to leave them to come here." Slughorn glanced at Bill. "Ms. Lovegood told me she had been to your house before; that's why she knew exactly where they might be staying."

Mrs. Weasley's eyebrows were drawn together with concern as she looked at Slughorn. "How are they? Did they wake up before you left?"

Slughorn shook his head sadly. "They're still unconscious, Molly."

Her sigh was heavy and filled with grief. "It's been hours. Surely—"

"I'm sure whatever they're facing right now can't be dealt with lightly; that's why it's taking so long." His eyes traveled to the ground, and Neville could see him struggle to hide his worry.

"They'll survive, won' they?" Hagrid asked, voicing his first comment after the Death Eater bombardment. His voice had a hint of sorrow to it, and he was staring decidedly at Slughorn.

Slughorn's eyes came up to look at Hagrid's for the briefest of moments, and it seemed to Neville that he couldn't say what he knew, but Hagrid gave nod as though he understood what it meant.

The DA members were quiet. Neville had informed them of Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny's situation when they all had met at Hogwarts a couple of hours ago to await orders from the Minister on what to do and how to attack the Death Eaters. He was glad that no one had asked more questions on the matter out of respect to Harry and his friends' privacy, but they had definitely talked among themselves on how or why it had happened.

"For the meantime," the Minister interrupted, clearing his throat. He faced the members of Dumbledore's Army. "I would suggest that all of you return to your homes. Tonight has surely exhausted all of you, but I'm beyond grateful for all the help you provided."

Some of the DA members started to protest.

"We're not leaving!"

"We'll wait for them to wake up!"

"We can't rest while they're still unconscious!"

The Minister held up his hand to silence the restless group. "I know how much you all care, but it would do you and them no good if you're all there waiting. We'll send word right away once we have good news." He faced Malfoy and said in a commanding tone, "I want you to come with me to the Ministry."

After breathing a sigh, Malfoy curtly nodded.

Hesitantly and slowly, the DA members started to disperse and disappear with loud pops as they Disapparated.

Only the Minister, Malfoy, Hagrid, Slughorn, and the Weasleys remained when the fake galleon in Neville's pocket grew warm as he was about to leave. He took it out at once, knowing what it meant. "It's Luna!" he said loudly.

All of them jerked their heads in his direction.

"What is it?" Mr. Weasley asked in alarm. "Did something happen?"

Neville glanced at him uncertainly. "I'm not sure. I told Luna to inform me as soon as possible if something were up."

"Could they possibly have woken up?" Percy asked, glancing at Neville and his parents hopefully.

Kingsley gave the Weasleys an encouraging smile while taking the Death Eaters wands Neville still held in his hands. "Young Malfoy and I have to go back to the Ministry. Keep me informed, Arthur."

Mr. Weasley nodded before addressing the remaining people around him. "Some of us should go back to Shell Cottage to check on them. Molly and I will go to St. Mungo's to have George treated."

George seemed too weak to stand any longer. He leaned on his two brothers, who had since been helping him stand upright. "Dad, I think I'm feeling fine. Let's just all go to Shell Cottage."

Mrs. Weasley cast a worried look to her son. "Are you sure, dear?"

"These mere scratches won't bring a Weasley down, Mum," he said jokingly.

She rolled her eyes. "Alright, but we'll go straight to the hospital as soon as we find out what's going on with the other four."

"Aye, aye," he replied while gesturing a small salute.

"Send my regards to Harry, will you?" Malfoy quickly asked the Weasleys.

Neville was surprised to hear Malfoy use Harry's first name for what he thought might be the first time, and he wondered whether the Weasleys had noticed it as well since they answered with a curt nod. Malfoy and the Minister then Disapparated from the forest.

Neville turned his gaze back to the Weasleys, looking hopeful at the prospect of speaking with Harry after all the mayhem of the night. "Can I come with you?"

Bill regarded him with a smile. "Yeah. I'm sure they would like to see you, especially Harry. After all, you have a lot of explaining to do, and I _would_ love to see Harry's reaction once you told him how you managed to fool us all by pretending to be him."

Neville turned scarlet, terrified of how Harry would react, but despite his quick heart rate, he was also excited to speak of the successful plan Malfoy had suggested they carry out to finally end all of the remaining dark forces that had ruined numerous lives.

* * *

The sound of waves washed around Shell Cottage, having brought calm to a lone figure with waist-length blonde hair and eyes flecked with silver. Earlier that night, Luna Lovegood had been gazing out the window of the room she had lodged for herself, admiring the gorgeous moon hovering over the vast sea. Professor Slughorn had left a few hours ago, giving Luna the freedom to fully explore the lovely home she was currently staying in.

But none of that crossed her mind as she sat on a chair, looking after the four figures in separate beds. By the looks of it, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny could only have been sleeping—but not soundly. From the way their eyelids moved, they appeared to be dreaming of something. An occasional twitch of a finger would render Luna to snapping her head in their direction, giving her a spark of hope that one of them would wake up.

The moment Neville had spread the word to Dumbledore's Army that Harry and his friends were in danger, Luna had aided the cause immediately by responding to his call to meet with him. As curious as this ordeal was for her, she had agreed to drop by the Ministry of Magic. It hadn't taken long for her to spot Neville among the crowd of people gathered at the Atrium. Along with him had been Draco Malfoy and Minister Shacklebolt. Upon seeing their urgent expressions, Luna had known right away how grave and pressing of a matter it was for Harry and his friends to have the Minister and the Aurors' help in saving them.

She had listened intently as Neville had explained to her what had happened. He'd looked frustrated as he tried to remember the name of a place that was on the tip of his tongue. He had described his meeting with Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny and what he had overheard them ask where they could hide. For some reason, Luna perceived that she somehow knew the place Neville had talked about. Shell Cottage had somehow brought comfort for her, for it was where she had taken refuge when a house-elf saved her from her captivity at Malfoy Manor and the ongoing war with You-Know-Who before she had decided to return to Hogwarts to fight.

The candlelight flickered beside Luna, enabling her to see a tiny movement made by her red-haired friend Ron Weasley, who startled her out of her musings. Suspense hung in the air as Luna stared at the slowly waking Ron whose eyes suddenly fluttered open. Hermione and Ginny stirred for a second, but their eyes remained still shut.

Luna hurriedly rushed towards his bedside, excitement overflowing on her features. "Hello, Ron," she greeted in barely a whisper so as not to frighten the newly awakened young man.

Ron blinked a few times, seemingly trying to register his surroundings before he locked eyes with Luna who gave a small smile. "L-Luna?" he croaked. He turned his head sideways to see where he was. He must have caught sight of Hermione and his sister who were both lying in bed. "W-what happened?" he asked in a weak voice. "Am I—"

Luna saw the confusion in Ron's blue eyes as he was unable to finish his sentence. "You were the first to wake up," she informed, beaming at him.

Ron furrowed his brow when he glanced back at her. "Wake up?" he asked with a perplexed look on his face. "Have I been—"

"You were unconscious for quite some time."

"Why?"

Before Luna could give him an answer, Ginny stirred yet again with a moan, and Hermione suddenly sat up from the bed on which she was lying just seconds ago, blinking rapidly and breathing heavily as she stared dazedly at the wall across from her. She ran her hand through her hair as if trying to remember something.

"Hermione?" Ron called softly.

Hermione spun her head quickly at the mention of her name and saw Ron looking anxiously at her.

Their exchange of glances made Luna even more curious as to what had happened over the course of their unconsciousness. _Have they seen anything?_ she quietly mused. "Hello, Hermione. It's nice to see you awake, too."

With a surprised look in her direction, Hermione opened her mouth to speak. "Luna?"

"Is this real?" Ginny asked gently. Ron, Hermione, and Luna whirled their heads to gaze at her. She cast a bewildered look at her brother and Hermione.

Luna watched them with raised eyebrows as though Ginny's question was odd. "I am as real as I can ever be, if that's what you're asking."

They stared at her with expressions of uncertainty on their faces as though seeing her brought more confusion after whatever they had encountered.

"What do you all remember?" Luna queried when she sat down on Hermione's bed, facing the three of them. "Has the ritual—"

"The ritual!" Ron exclaimed, his eyes wide in realization.

Hermione placed her hand to her mouth. "So we're back..." her muffled voice quivered.

Luna nodded in agreement. "Yes. You all only just woke up."

Her statement somewhat brought Ron, Hermione, and Ginny to a loss for words, but they simultaneously looked at Harry.

Ginny raised herself up from her bed and crept to where Harry lay. "Why isn't he awake?" she asked in a worried tone while brushing Harry's hair with her fingers. "Did we finish the ritual?"

"Looks like it," Ron answered although his features indicated otherwise. "We're back and awake, aren't we?"

"But why's Harry not waking up? He's supposed to be awake if we finished, right?"

Hermione looked thoughtful for a second. "I would assume so, yes. But what was the last thing you remember before waking?"

Ron and Ginny blinked a few times as though trying to rack their brains for the hard-to-summon events they had experienced. Before they could answer, Hermione added, "I only have flashes of images, and they're vague. I couldn't tell—"

"Me, too," Ginny interrupted with a disappointed look on her face. "I can't quite get my head around it."

"Weren't we all doing certain tasks or something?" Ron whispered uncertainly.

Hermione heaved a sigh. She stared at the ceiling thoughtfully, trying to conjure up pieces of the dream in her mind. "There was a gold potion... I believe there were mirrors as well, but I could be wrong..."

Luna saw Ron and Ginny nod as if saying they had seen the same. "Were you guys dreaming or something?"

Hermione shook her head. "I don't think so, but I'm not really sure either. It felt like we were..." She trailed off, unable to articulate what was on her mind.

"Like we were in a different dimension?" Ron guessed quietly.

"Yes, but..." Hermione's eyes roamed back to the still, unconscious form of their friend. "Did you guys see Harry there?"

"I think we all did," Ginny replied hesitantly. "Though I'm not certain who I saw. There was Harry, but at that time he didn't seem—"

"Nice?" Ron piped up.

Luna drew back, knit her thin brows together. "Why wasn't he nice?"

"I-I actually don't know if he was or wasn't..." Ginny replied thoughtfully. "But he was different in some way... and I thought I'd seen another Harry." She scrunched her face, trying to recall the memory.

"Another Harry? You mean there were two of them?"

"I'm not sure of what I saw... I may have been hallucinating at the time."

"I don't think you were," Luna disagreed softly, and the three of her friends looked up to meet her silver eyes.

"How could you know that?" Hermione asked curiously.

"I don't." She put her hands together, a dreamy look spreading across her face. "I believe that whoever you saw wasn't caused by hallucination."

"Are you saying it was really him then?" Ron asked impatiently.

"I'm only guessing."

Hermione sighed again while rubbing her arms together as though she suddenly felt cold. "It felt strangely real... but what have we learned so far? Did we find out anything? Or finish the tasks?" She eyed Ron and Ginny with frustration visible on her features.

Ron bowed his head in contemplation. Ginny had a faraway look on her face as she gazed out of the window. None of them spoke for a few minutes. Luna slipped into deep thought, too. She still felt mildly curious as to what happened to them and why Harry wasn't waking up.

"I would assume we finished some tasks," Ron stated after a while. "But what happened before I woke up..." He sighed deeply. "I could only remember bars... like we were in prison or something."

Luna's eyes grew round. "Prison? Were you three doing something illegal?"

"No, I don't believe we were," Hermione quickly protested. "But that was somehow true—the bars, I mean," she said slowly, her eyes narrowing.

Ginny shifted her position to sit in bed beside Harry. "If it were true, then what were we doing exactly?"

Hermione shrugged in defeat. "I don't know. I feel as though something important has happened... something remarkable."

"Do you think it had to do with our waking up?" Ron asked, disconcerted. "Did we succeed in the ritual then?"

"If we did," Ginny replied with a frightened tone. "Then Harry's supposed to be awake right now, too, isn't he?"

"Are you saying we failed?"

Ginny didn't respond. Her hands, however, shook when she brought hers to Harry's which hadn't moved a muscle.

Ron turned his head to look at Hermione, who had turned pale. "I don't feel sick; do you? I don't feel that burn under the skin that Harry had said he had when he was really sick."

Hermione shook her head. "I don't feel anything wrong." With a small panic in her voice, she added, "But I don't think we'd feel the burning right away if we did fail."

Ginny's eyes glistened with tears in the light from the room's candles. "I don't want to think that we're awake right now because we failed the ritual." She looked at Ron, Hermione, and even Luna as though asking for some comfort. When none of her friends reacted, she immediately checked Harry's pulse.

Ron, Hermione, and Luna waited with bated breath until they saw Ginny sigh with relief, confirming Harry was still breathing. But Ron still wrung his hands tensely, and Hermione hugged her knees with a worried look on her face. Luna could tell by the identical look on their faces that each of them was thinking hard, possibly trying to solve the mystery.

Hermione stood up abruptly, surprising the other three occupants in the room. "I have to check the Anima book. Maybe it can tell us what's going on!"

"How long has it been since we started the ritual, Luna?" Ron asked suddenly.

"I'm not really sure," she replied thoughtfully. "I only just got here a few hours ago to look after you guys."

Their heads snapped up with bemused looks on their faces.

"Look after us?" Ginny asked. "Why?"

Ron and Hermione scanned the room as though expecting to catch sight of something or someone else that was supposed to be with them.

"It's too quiet in here," admitted Ron, indicating to the rest of the house.

"Where are the rest of the Weasleys, Luna?" Hermione queried at once, foreboding visible on her face. The Anima book she had been planning on reading was momentarily forgotten.

Luna cocked her head to one side to look at Ron and Ginny. She cleared her throat before she spoke in a quiet voice. "Your brother, George, was kidnapped."

For a minute, only the whipping sounds from the burning candle were heard as Ron, Hermione, and Ginny slowly registered what Luna had said in a deliberate manner.

Without warning, Ron leapt out of his bed, blood seeming to have disappeared from his now-paler, freckled face. "What?!"

"What are you talking about?" Ginny asked, suddenly extremely anxious. "When did that happen?"

Hermione clutched her chest as she tried to calm herself. "Where have the others gone, Luna?"

Luna stared at the three panic-stricken faces in front of her. "To the Forbidden Forest."

"We have to go," said Ron quickly, taking a step toward the door. "Now!"

"Wait!" Luna cried, making them stop their movement. "It's already too late for you to go."

"What do you mean, 'too late'?" Ginny asked with alarm in her voice. "If they're not back yet, that means they're in trouble!"

Luna sighed. "We've worked out a plan to secure the safety of everyone involved."

"How could you know if it did?" Ron asked incredulously. "The plan may have failed."

"You worked out a plan with whom?" Hermione asked quickly.

"The Minister and Neville."

Ron, Hermione and Ginny stared disbelievingly at her. "Neville?"

"Yes," Luna replied hastily while beaming at them. "And speaking of which..." She took out her fake galleon from her pocket. After fiddling with it, she looked up to her friends again. "There. Neville will be informed in no time. I promised to send him a word through this coin once you're awake."

Ron looked exasperated. "And you expect us to just wait here for Neville to come?" he asked incredulously.

Luna nodded.

"Are you mad?!" he bellowed in response. "I'd rather be out there getting my brother back than wait here!"

"How sure are you that the plan will succeed?" Hermione asked anxiously.

"I'm not, but—"

Loud popping noises interrupted Luna's sentence.

"That sounded like people Apparated here," Ginny breathe.

Without another word, the four of them dashed out of the room and towards the front door. From a distance, they could see a group of people walking side by side approaching closer to the house. Luna's face lit up when she saw Neville **—l** ooking worn out but enthusiastic as he conversed with the Weasleys. George was with them, and judging from the way his brothers held him, he wasn't in good shape but somehow alive.

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley glanced at the front door. Surprise formed on each of their faces upon spotting Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Luna. Along with the rest of the Weasleys, they quickened their paces, and looks of absolute longing and excitement etched themselves into their faces.

To give them some space, Luna moved back from the nearing Weasleys who abruptly seized Ron, Hermione, and Ginny and engulfed them into tight embraces.

Tears poured from Mrs. Weasley's eyes as she caressed the backs of her children and Hermione. "Oh, thank goodness you're all okay. We've been so worried."

Right behind her, Slughorn walked in and settled himself onto a kitchen chair, and Hagrid squeezed himself through the door to enter, his lips forming into a smile as he gazed at Ron, Hermione, and Ginny. Neville beamed at the sight before him.

"What happened?" Ron asked straightaway following the moment his family let go of the hug. He helped George walk to the sofa in the living room so he could lie down.

"Oh, it was insane," Bill started. "If it wasn't for Draco Malfoy, we would be in such big trouble."

"What's Malfoy got to do with it?" Ginny asked curiously.

"He had it all planned out," Neville replied excitedly. With rapt attention from Ron, Hermione, and Ginny, Neville went on to explain what had happened, starting from the moment the Minister had contacted him and relayed Malfoy's traitorous plan to ambush Yaxley and the Death Eaters. He also described the attack by Dumbledore's Army, the centaurs, and the Aurors who had surrounded the forest.

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley started tending to George's wounds with the help of Slughorn while they listened to Neville break down one by one the events that happened. By the time Neville reached the part of George and Harry's ransomed exchange and his taking the Polyjuice potion to pose as Harry, their facial expressions had doubled in size. Ron, Hermione, and Ginny couldn't stop themselves from laughing and admiring Neville's acting and fighting skills, and Luna patted his shoulder for a job well done.

"Where's Harry?" Hagrid asked suddenly as he looked around the room.

Now that the topic of conversation redirected to Harry, the Weasleys, Neville, and Slughorn briefly turned their heads to look for him.

"Yeah. I only just noticed," Percy agreed loudly. "Harry should be here with us celebrating."

Neville nodded approvingly. "I was so eager to tell him right away about the plan and all... I can't believe I'd forgotten about Harry when I arrived here. He wouldn't want to miss out."

All eyes fixed upon Ron, Hermione, and Ginny, who slowly replaced their joyful expressions with crestfallen looks. Luna sent sympathetic glances towards her friends.

Hermione met the eagerly looking eyes before her. She inhaled deeply before relaying the news. "Harry's still unconscious."

Everyone stayed transfixed as all the occupants in the room **—** other than Ron, Ginny, and Luna **—** stared, dumbstruck by Hermione's words.

"But... why?" Mrs. Weasley asked after a moment of silence, looking perplexed.

"We don't know," Ginny answered sadly. "We all woke up at the same time, except Harry."

"Has the ritual failed?" Professor Slughorn queried. His voice wavered anxiously.

"We don't believe so," Hermione replied uncertainly, looking down at her feet. "But I'm not so sure anymore."

"What do yer mean yeh're 'not sure anymore'?" Hagrid asked worriedly.

Hermione sighed. She felt compelled to meet his eyes when she hesitantly glanced back at him.

"We couldn't remember the last thing that happened before we woke up," Ron answered miserably for Hermione.

Bill cleared his throat. "But couldn't you three tell if something went wrong? Do you feel any difference with yourselves? Are you in any pain?"

Ron, Hermione, and Ginny shook their heads.

"Have you checked the book for any possible information?" asked Professor Slughorn.

"Not yet," Hermione replied. "But I was going to." She and Professor Slughorn walked to the kitchen table where the Anima book lay. She took it and flipped through the pages until she reached the part containing the ritual. It only took her a minute to read the entirety of the page before she shook her head dejectedly. "There's nothing written in here that provides the answers we're looking for."

Everyone was at a loss for words.

Professor Slughorn helped Hermione skim through all the pages in the book as they frantically searched for an answer.

"Can't we find any other book on this subject?" Ron asked with panic in his voice, but no one answered his urgent question.

Luna could feel everyone's frustration mounting as they talked frantically among themselves, trying to figure out the inevitable.

"I don't know why Harry's not waking up," Ginny told her mother, wearing a look of distress. "The only possible reason I can think of is that there must be a tribulation that Harry still has to undergo on his own. If not that, then I don't know what else." She slowly walked towards Harry's room.

Luna wished she could comfort her friends in such desperate times or help them in some way, but she knew it wouldn't be enough. As she approached the doorway of the bedroom, she observed Ginny sitting from the side of his bed and holding Harry's hand as she stared at the rise and fall of his chest, the only indication that he was still alive. Upon seeing Harry's peaceful expression, Luna wondered what could he be dreaming at that very moment.

**To be continued...**

* * *

**Beta-read by be11atrix-the-strange, Smthnborrowediamblue, KVeronicaP**


	24. Chapter 24

Something was changing slowly inside of Harry; it was as though his own inner light was being snuffed out by cold, wet fingers. He couldn't escape it. He found himself floating through constricting darkness. His chest felt heavy as he strained to see beyond the seemingly solid black walls around him. He couldn't remember how he had ended up there. He could hear no sound. Instead, he shivered from the sudden cold, but he wondered, perhaps, if it was from fear of not knowing his place in the world around him anymore. Dread loomed over him when he tried to wrenched his hand back and forth over his face to see his hands.

Harry closed his eyes. It was easier to breathe without seeing the inky blackness. _Where do things begin to make sense?_ he thought frantically. Everything was fuzzy. He knew he was forgetting something or perhaps some people in his life. It nagged at him, an insistent tug at the back of his mind, and trying to remember was exhausting. He sensed a gnawing pain somewhere inside him, but it was difficult to identify its source. He wished someone would show up in the hope that talking to them would trigger these lost memories. Harry felt them stirring in the recesses of his mind, but every time he tried to grasp them, they slipped away. _Am I really better off not knowing? What's the point of all of this if I don't know who I am?_

Calming himself, Harry tried to remember with all of his might the last thing that had happened before everything had gone dark. He was certain that he had been with someone—someone who had looked just like him, and he had held a basilisk fang in his hand that he—

He stopped. _Did I just stab myself? Am I dead? Is it over?_

Terror gripped him. His head felt like it might explode at any moment. He tried to concentrate enough to remember the consequence the phantom Harry had spoken of if he stabbed himself instead of him.

. _.. You have the power to erase my existence and continue the life you've been living by piercing my form... Or pierce yourself and experience the life you saw instead..._

_That was it!_

Memories of Granger, Weasley, and that other Weasley girl came flooding back before his eyes, and all the missing pieces of the puzzle clicked back into place.

* * *

"NOOO!" Ginny screamed. A horrified Ron stood dumbstruck, and Hermione's fresh tears ran down her cheeks as she buried her face in her hands.

Harry was inches away from piercing the figure when he stopped mid-action. Hundreds of silvery substance were flying directly towards him. They latched onto him like soft strands of silk, covering his entire body. Harry blinked. "What—" Before he could comprehend what had happened, memories after memories overwhelmed his mind like an avalanche when the substance touched his skin. He reached out and held on to the edge of the table, steadying himself.

The memory started with younger versions of Ron and Hermione when and how they introduced themselves to him on the Hogwarts Express. An image of a troll inside an empty bathroom shocked Harry; he hadn't seen one before and he was confused as to why the three of them ended up fighting a mountain troll to begin with, his musings were abruptly stopped when a new memory came in.

"What is a wizard's duel?" Harry saw his younger self ask Ron. "And what do you mean, you're my second?"

"Well, a second's there to take over if you die," said Ron casually.

Harry never found out why they had talked about the duel because this memory ended quickly and was replaced by another. This time, Harry saw Hermione dashing at his younger self as she threw her arms around him. "Harry—you're a great wizard, you know."

"I'm not as good as you," Harry heard himself say with an embarrassed look on his face when she let go of the younger Harry.

"There are more important things—friendship and bravery—"

The memory dissolved once again and Harry had to blink a few times when the next thing he saw was a flying car with Ron and him in it, and then the memory changed to a glass of booger-colored potion Harry held in his hand before he drank it to transform to someone else.

Harry had no time to breathe. He was horror struck when the next memory was of a huge basilisk that was twitching on the floor. He saw his younger self drenched in blood awkwardly helping a weeping Ginny to her feet. Harry was never able to figure out what happened next because that memory faded as well.

The next one had Harry hold his breath. He saw a racing broom the memory-Harry was holding in his hand. Ron had admired it, too, begging to try it himself. Harry had seen them win a Quidditch game and how they celebrated until midnight inside the Gryffindor common room.

These memories were nonstop, and Harry thought his insides would explode from all the emotions he had felt in a matter of minutes. He couldn't force his way out and he was stuck instead to witness everything before him. Was it Ron, Hermione, and Ginny who had made him see all these memories? He hadn't seen them cast a spell though, or maybe he hadn't looked enough to notice anything. For a split second, his attention was withdrawn from the racing memories to look at Ron, Hermione, and Ginny behind the bars that blocked them, and that was when he caught sight of what they were doing. Wands in hands, they were extracting their memories and desperately sending them his way. Harry couldn't think straight but he had figured that these memories were probably their attempt to change his mind for the last remaining second they had before he made his final decision, and he felt a pang of extreme guilt for not understanding their pleas or giving them time to further explain. But was it really necessary?

Harry's eyes stayed focused on the images before him, and, upon witnessing all the memories that had invaded his already confused mind, he was certain of one thing: Ron, Hermione, and Ginny had stuck with him all the way—staying up late at night to help the Harry in their memories master ways to conquer a whopping great dragon for one, or how they had tried to understand his impulsive thinking before charging off to do something stupid. For Harry, it was something he recognized as a sign of solidarity and loyalty. They had always been there for him in every way. From practicing the Summoning Charm he needed for the first Triwizard task and researching everything from breathing underwater to killing what he found out to be Horcruxes and helping him in his various adventures. Harry found out that their friendship to this Harry weren't always serious, and their moments of laughter showed how similar their humours were.

Even if it meant getting into trouble, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny had broken rules when the stakes were high just to save Harry. Harry had witnessed in one of the many memories the determination to keep Dumbledore's Army going despite the danger of being discovered. Their advice on matters of the heart or anything about school were invaluable, too. Harry could have done a lot worse if he hadn't followed their advice, and that said a lot about how much the Harry in their memories valued their friendship.

When this young Harry was upset, they had offered similar quiet comfort; Hermione or Ginny brushing the top of his lightly with their hands. Maybe they had some words of wisdom, but as good friends know all too well, sometimes a silence didn't have to be uncomfortable, and Harry felt immense comfort at knowing that. The mere fact that they were still there on either side of him, not shrinking from him as though he were contaminated or dangerous, was worth more than he could ever tell them.

All these memories locked themselves in Harry's mind. He couldn't believe how much his friends knew meant to them, and he started to wonder now who he really was. When he had looked into the mirror in the second task and seen his reflection, he had realized that something was different. Nothing had changed in his features; there were the same bright green eyes looking back at him, but the expression in them was that of a stranger. His eyes that had once sparkled were lifeless. The boy in the mirror had looked lost, but at that time, he had merely shrugged it off to finish the task.

There were things that Harry wanted to remember, but it seemed now that his memories were blocked, or were they really altered in some way when Ginny pressed the matter to him earlier? But what was the point in remembering his other life? From all the memories Harry had seen so far, it was high time he got away from all of that. But he started to have doubts. Was it really him? He who had no parents at the very young age of one and suffered the abuse and neglect of his relatives? Was it truly he who was friends with Ron, Hermione, and Ginny, who had stayed by his side and helped him along the way? Why, though, was he seeing himself as dissimilar in this world? Was this really all an illusion—a fake world? But... why? Why did he have to experience life differently? Was it only taunting him, making him feel as though all the missing pieces were finally put together and he could live a happy life? Everything he could ever wish for was here and it was extraordinary how they could appear, just like that, the moment he had wanted them.

"Harry, please..." he heard Hermione say desperately, and when he turned his head to look in her direction, he saw her eyes streaming with tears. "The memories you saw... it was all real. You have made a powerful and amazing impact on our lives and we couldn't have done everything without you. You are a symbol of hope for many... especially us, Harry."

"We don't want to get on with life when you're not around, mate," Ron added quietly.

"I will never give up on you," Ginny stated softly, choking back her tears and looking straight into Harry's eyes.

The figure before Harry interrupted his thoughts when it spoke again in its monotone voice. "The choice to erase my existence or experience the life you saw is yours."

As if by an invisible force, Harry felt his hand that held the basilisk fang lift slowly until it was above his head. His fingers slowly turning cold. This was the moment of truth. He had to make a decision before losing his mind completely. He had already weighed all the pros and cons—it was proving difficult to persuade himself, but he figured it was for the best.

Harry inhaled deeply and closed his eyes. He ran his thumb against the smooth surface of the basilisk fang for a few seconds. His heart was pounding in his ears when he finally reached a decision. Harry didn't know whether he would regret it later or not, but it seemed to be the only right thing to do at this remarkable moment. He plunged the fang deep into his heart.

Everything happened so quickly. His mind struggled to comprehend what was happening to him, leaving him unprepared. He remembered the core and center from which everything else stemmed. He saw the life he had with his friends and an indescribable rush of happiness surged through him. He saw familiar faces right before his eyes, giving him comforting smiles. But it was short lived. All the memories he had seen just moments ago were gone in an instant when his mind shut off. A blinding pain beyond anything he could imagine coursed inside him. It was strange, though, that he didn't feel the basilisk fang pierce his chest; instead he felt like his insides were burning fiercely; he could feel his skin as though it was being ripped slowly from his body and knives were slicing every part of him. He couldn't hold in his screams; the pain was too much. He fell on the ground. The slightest movement he made caused such stabbing pain that he was forced to lie completely still. His chest heaved involuntarily as broken sobs ripped through him. Every intake of air even felt like he was inhaling fire. He struggled to open his eyes, and when he did, he saw Ron, Hermione, and Ginny blur like an old photograph. He caught their lips moving but he could no longer hear their voices. The room he was in clouded over and disappeared.

* * *

Confusion brought Harry to question the ritual he and his friends performed at the Burrow. This wasn't what he had imagined. He opened his eyes again—or he thought he did—but he still couldn't make out anything. He tried to feel his body, but to his horror, his body wasn't even there. He was merely a soul trapped in limbo. With his eyes tight shut again, Harry tried to calm himself.

 _This isn't real... Not real... not real..._ he chanted again and again in his mind.

Harry felt himself land on something solid. Heart beating fast, he opened his eyes a mere fraction, afraid of what he might see. He couldn't make out anything at first; everything was a blur. He blinked—

_Wait a minute._

To Harry's astonishment, his own body reappeared. He stood shakily and see his hands perfectly when he brought them in front of himself. Right then, a shape began to appear in the void surrounding him. Harry looked around before taking tentative steps toward what he could make out to be row upon row of tombstones. There was a kissing gate at the entrance to the graveyard. Harry pushed it open and edged through it.

He walked deeper and deeper, squinting into the surrounding darkness every now and then, and feeling apprehensive and full of anticipation every time he passed by corners of headstones. When Harry turned a corner, he suddenly stopped—

A small church was visible beyond a large yew tree, and on its left stood a fine, old house on the hillside that was completely silent and slightly eerie. Something heavy pressed upon Harry's chest, and a strong sense of foreboding was creeping up slowly inside him. He knew this place. He had been here before. The large stone statue of an Angel of Death stood nearby, and Harry saw the familiar skull face and skeletal hand that held a raised scythe in its right hand.

Harry took deep, sharp gulps of air, trying to steady himself from trembling, trying to regain control. This place was where Voldemort had returned to power, and Harry wanted to leave at once. He did not think he could stand another moment there. He whirled around, desperately trying to find his way out again, but the path was gone, and instead what he saw made him stumble backwards; a spread-eagled Cedric Diggory lay on the ground, dead.

For a second that lasted an eternity, Harry stared into Cedric's face, at his open gray eyes, blank and expressionless. All the breath seemed to have been knocked out of Harry; his head swam so badly. _Cedric!_ He relived what had happened inside the maze of the Third Task and how both of them had been transported to the graveyard. Harry could feel a burning, prickling feeling in the inner corners of his eyes. He blinked and looked away.

Harry hadn't had the chance to recuperate yet from seeing Cedric's death again and again in his mind when another death of someone he knew appeared before him. It was gut-wrenching to see Lupin and Tonks's dead bodies also lying there.

"No..." Harry let tears pour out of his eyes as he tried to reach Tonks and Lupin with his shaking hands. He desperately wanted to hold them and tell them how sorry he was for everything they had gone through fighting for his cause for the war despite having their first born child. He felt his heart ache at seeing them unmoving.

Harry reeled backward the next moment. He could not draw breath. He could feel himself screaming inside when he saw Fred Weasley's lifeless body on the ground. The fact that he had represented such a positive source of light throughout Harry's years at Hogwarts was what made it so difficult for Harry to grasp his death. Along with George, Fred had provided Harry with much-needed laughter. Knowing he wouldn't be there every step of the way in Harry's and the Weasley's lives was too much to bear. Harry wept. He couldn't forgive himself for what happened. If only he had given himself up to Voldemort in the first place, Fred might never have died... Guilt pressed hard upon him, and he could feel himself crumbling to pieces as he broke down and cried.

Harry felt suffocated, and he blinked back tears when he saw more dead bodies scattered around him. The still form of Dobby with a knife protruding from his chest, his glassy orbs unseeing, doubled Harry's grief. He wept and wept at seeing his godfather, Sirius, among the other bodies before him: Dumbledore, Mad-Eye Moody, Snape, and even Hedwig were among them, too. It was devastating to see them there with their expressionless eyes and lack of the rise and fall of their chests. Harry would give anything, even his own life, if it meant seeing them move and him talking to them again.

Harry's heart was pounding wildly in his chest, and he felt his fingers trembling slightly. He could hardly breathe. Was it really okay that he had survived while the others hadn't? He felt a dull blow to his stomach. He fell to his knees, unable to control the guilt. _It shouldn't have been this way... I don't deserve to be alive..._ If anything, Harry thought he should be the one lying dead instead of them. And again Harry understood without having to think that he wasn't really supposed to have lived anyway. He had already accepted death—welcomed it even, and if for some strange reason that landing himself in this place meant that he was about to die, then so be it. He was ready, and he wouldn't turn back; he would face it bravely like his friends and family did.

Almost as soon as he had reached that conclusion, Harry heard—

"Potter," a very soft voice of a man called out to him unexpectedly.

Harry's breath caught in his throat, and his heart gave a startling lurch. He knew that voice; it sounded so familiar; it was cold and empty, and it made Harry think that he was being scrutinized, yet somehow the voice gave a little warmth, letting him know that he wasn't alone in this vast black space. He opened his eyes and looked around for the source.

Out of nowhere, Harry saw light coming from an open door. At first glance, the corridor was empty... _but no_... When he squinted at it curiously, he saw a shadow of a man whose cloak was billowing behind him. Harry walked slowly and cautiously towards him until he could make out the features of the man; he had greasy black hair, a hooked nose, and sallow skin.

"Snape?"

Snape's lip curled into his usual sneer that he reserved most especially for him, but Harry didn't care. He remembered the unnerving feeling everytime he stood right before Snape. It felt like no time at all had passed. For an awful moment, irrational fears filled Harry's head. _If I'm seeing and talking to Snape, then am I dead?_

Harry tried to shake off the horrible feeling clawing at his insides. A moment ago he had seen Snape's body among the mass of dead people around him. His imagination must have been playing tricks on him.

"You're not real," he said to Snape stiffly, losing his nerves completely. "I'm dreaming," he murmured almost to himself, his voice quivering.

Snape's black eyes lingered for a moment upon Harry's green ones before speaking. "I am but a memory," he confirmed.

Harry stood in confusion. "Memory?" As strange as it was, surely Snape's form wasn't the same as Tom Riddle's whose memory had been preserved in a diary. Was Snape also a Horcrux? Harry glanced nervously at his former professor. "Are you saying you're a—"

"Absolutely not," Snape answered seriously as though reading Harry's mind.

That was a relief to hear for Harry but— _He can't have known what a Horcrux is, could he?_ Harry mused with a raised eyebrow. _Did Dumbledore mention it to him?_ But before Harry could go on to question his former professor, Snape continued.

"Memory, Potter, memory," he insisted. "Memories are so vital to every aspect of our lives. Without them, life is meaningless. Your so-called friends undoubtedly had shared with you their own, had they not?"

"Yes," Harry replied in a low voice, remembering the silvery substances that had attached themselves to him.

"Then you should know, Potter, that their memories carried important parts of your life. You wouldn't be able to stand before me now if you hadn't seen them. But of course, I wouldn't deny that you have a knack for following your own foolish intuition to save your neck despite the obvious."

Harry frowned at him. Even in memory form, Snape could still throw insults. Harry shook off trying to understand what his professor meant. The point of seeing Snape just because he had viewed his friend's memories confused him.

"You got them back, didn't you? Snape asked before Harry could once again process his thoughts.

Harry nodded, his head bowed.

"Memories are a powerful thing. We have crossed paths once again because you have seen mine. You do remember, don't you?"

Harry looked up at him quickly and nodded solemnly. Back at Dumbledore's office, he had gone straight to the pensive to witness Snape's double life and how he had spent his final years fighting for what was right.

"That served as a catalyst for me to manifest myself into your mind—or at least a part of me. As amusing as this may sound, I would presume that at the back of your head, you must have been subconsciously thinking a lot about me when you'd landed in this place."

Harry cocked an eyebrow and gazed at Snape as though willing himself not to laugh. Was he really thinking about him? It seemed far-fetched for Harry, but now he wondered why. He considered it for a moment, pondering at the possibility that he could be missing the man who hated him all his life. Snape had been hard on him for no good reason, but Harry couldn't deny that Snape had spent much of his life making choices that would go in some way to repair the one, truly terrible one, and this newfound truth made Harry respect Snape even more than he had been letting on. But of all people, why was he thinking of him? Was Snape only taunting him?

"Yes. Believe it or not, I've come to help you out... again," Snape added with as much regret in his voice as he could allow.

Harry stared at him blankly. "What do you mean?"

Snape turned his head to gaze at the dead bodies before staring back at Harry. "It seems you have undoubtedly got yourself stuck in another situation which you can't pull yourself out of, or shall I say you're letting it control you."

Harry furrowed his brow, but he said nothing. It was true that he had been in countless situations where his life had been at stake and only believed that luck had always been with him, but this time, he had to agree with Snape; he felt stuck.

"Look around you," said Snape. He paused to let Harry glance once again at the lifeless bodies of his loved ones before he continued. "You understand what this means, don't you?"

Harry felt frustrated. _What does Snape want me to realize?_ He had already accepted the fact that it was all his fault that they were dead. Harry looked uncertainly back at Snape. "I—I still don't understand what you mean."

"Typical... But of course I shouldn't have expected more from you the way you grasp things." Snape eyed him lazily before walking towards his own dead body.

Harry decided to ignore the insult and instead watched his former professor closely as he examined their surroundings without any trace of emotion.

"What you're seeing right now is merely a vision, or a representation," explained Snape while lifting his dead body's wrist to examine it briefly before letting it flop down again. "It's all in your head, Potter."

"Are you telling me that you're also only a vision?" Harry asked, completely lost.

"On the contrary, I am not. As I said before, I'm a memory."

Harry frowned; he felt as though he was screwing up his whole brain in concentration. He was certain that he had been in this very same ordeal with someone else in a white room—contrary to where he was now.

And then it hit him, _Dumbledore!_

But Harry wanted a few questions answered. "Sir, did Dumbledore send you?"

Snape raised his eyebrows. "What makes you think that?"

"It's just that... I saw Dumbledore when I thought I died from Voldemort's Killing curse. He and I talked... It was bizzare, just like this because I know you and Dumbledore are dead."

"Indeed," said Snape. "That Dumbledore could very well be a memory also. He was one of the many people perhaps who had left an impact in your life or I daresay someone who had cared for you. You had viewed his memories, had you not?"

Harry nodded. He had seen a few when he had had private lessons with Dumbledore in his sixth year about Tom Riddle. _Does viewing someone's memory automatically create a connection, then?_ he mused. He was slightly hesitant to speak. He was sure that his next question would probably make Snape uncomfortable, but he had to ask to confirm what he had seen in Snape's memory.

"Does that mean you care, too; that's why you're here?"

Snape didn't speak. He merely stared at Harry with his grim, black eyes as though calculating his answer. For a moment, Harry wondered whether Snape would actually admit that he did care for him but was only hesitant to say so. But who was he to even consider that? Snape had never shown any sympathy for him nor made a habit of being cheery which didn't help matters in Harry's opinion, but Harry had understood the pain Snape felt and the life he had had to live just to protect him from Voldemort.

"I did," Snape answered after a moment of silence.

Harry was surprised to find that his tone of voice sounded sincere. _It's uncharacteristic,_ Harry thought, but it made him feel at ease. He gazed at Snape with renewed understanding. It may have been too late to say how he held in high regard what Snape had done for him, but it was now or never.

"Thank you," Harry whispered. There was so many words that he could have said to Snape at that very moment, but he couldn't bring himself to say them. Harry had misjudged him since the very beginning of his school year at Hogwarts, and to find out that Snape was not what he thought he was, was terrible. Snape had dedicated the rest of his life to protecting him, and what could be more heroic and self-sacrificing than that?

Snape looked at him as though he wanted to say something, but he broke the gaze and glanced back again at the dead bodies. "This is only a trial, Potter," he explained. "You're facing one of the terrible guilts that you may have been feeling or keeping deep inside of you."

Harry remained silent as he mournfully gazed at his dead loved ones.

Snape continued, "They appear before you right now because you may be thinking that they died because of you. That alone inhibits you from going back to reality."

"Reality?" Harry asked in a low voice, a hint of worry evident in his tone. "I don't think there's more I can do to change this but to accept death."

Snape eyed Harry intently. "Do you remember the Occlumency lessons? Didn't I tell you to discipline your mind? You will be easily provoked if you keep on wallowing in heavy memories. Are you telling me you're still weak? That you still cannot control your emotions?"

"I am not weak."

"Then prove it to me!" Snape spat, jostling Harry's shoulders. "You have to confront and tell yourself that their deaths aren't your fault. You have to accept the fact that they sacrificed themselves not only for your sake but also for what they had believed in."

"But wouldn't you agree that none of this would have happened if Voldemort hadn't acted upon the contents of the prophecy?" Harry argued.

"Then that should make you realize that it wasn't your doing that caused these people's deaths. Don't you get it, Potter? The Dark Lord created that situation, and only he was responsible for all that happened on your behalf. None of this was your fault."

"They would still be alive if I weren't born in the first place," Harry mumbled under his breath, an unpleasant, constricting sensation forming in his chest.

"Yes... I shouldn't have wasted my life trying to keep you safe, then," came Snape's cold voice, pure loathing showed in his eyes. "What an ungrateful brat! You may not appreciate the life given to you, but think of others as well. It's not always about you." He scoffed in disgust before continuing. "I won't deny that some people had the same foolish thoughts... but unlike you, they still strive to live despite their flaws."

Upon realizing the seriousness of what he had told Snape, Harry immediately regretted it. "I—" he trailed off, looking everywhere but at his professor, "I'm sorry."

"... Always whining..." Snape said, his dark, cold eyes narrowing slightly when their eyes met. "Dim though you may be, remind me why I am here, Potter. You do know why I showed myself to you at this very moment, don't you?"

"Yes," said Harry stiffly. "So I can control my mind."

"And have you done that yet?" Snape asked impatiently.

Harry was having a hard time concentrating with Snape staring furiously at him. How was he supposed to think properly if the one person helping him hated his very existence? Harry snorted at his musings; he should have expected that in flesh or memory form, Snape would forever be a total git!

Without answering his former Potions professor, Harry walked toward the body of Sirius, whose face still held the same fear and surprise when he had fallen through the ancient doorway and had disappeared behind the Veil. Harry struggled hard to control the pain and grief that came back when he looked at his godfather's eyes. Sirius had understood more than anyone how darkness could impact a person's life, and he was living proof that it was possible to at that time to rise above it.

 _"You think the dead we loved ever truly leave us?"_ Harry remembered Sirius speak those words and offer a different home for him once his name was cleared. There were many other memories that Harry wished he had gotten the chance to change them.

He looked up at Snape, who stood quietly behind him, and back again at Sirius. He placed his hand in his godfather's arm. _Snape was right,_ Harry thought to himself. _Sirius, I hope you know that I couldn't have survived those darkest days without you. You've given me so much for the short time that we had, and I truly appreciate all of it. You don't have to worry about me anymore. Wherever you are, I know it's giving you much-needed happiness._ As Harry said those words in his mind, a lone tear escaped from his eye. He would miss Sirius immensely, but he knew that he was in a better place now. Harry cracked a small smile when an image of Sirius running towards James and Lupin flashed before his mind. _Until then, Padfoot..._

Harry's gaze fell upon Lupin and Tonks. He felt a sharp pang of guilt once again for seeing them dead along with Dumbledore, Dobby, Fred, and the others. Harry couldn't suppress the urge to cry.

He felt like he was back again in his third year at Hogwarts when Lupin resigned from his teaching post. He was miserable at that time for not having him as his professor any longer, and now he couldn't bear to think that he would never see nor hear Lupin ever again. But just like Sirius, Harry knew Lupin and Tonks were in the same place with him now. Harry had the impression that if they could see him right at this moment in the graveyard, Lupin might just have handed him a chocolate to make him feel better.

 _Thank you for being the greatest teacher and friend I have ever known,_ Harry thought to himself. _For the great time you and Tonks spent with me and the respect and understanding you both showed until the very end. I wish I could tell you both how much I value those great times. Your sacrifices, after only recently becoming parents to your son, I will always be most grateful._ Harry wiped away the tears that was rolling down his cheeks. He looked at Lupin and Tonks one last time. _Thank you..._

For a moment, Harry thought he saw faint outlines of Lupin and Tonks from a distance looking back at him, but when he blinked away his tears, he wondered whether it was just his imagination.

Harry gazed slowly at the rest of the bodies before him. One by one, Harry talked to them with an impression that they could probably hear him somehow. He knew it was pointless but he hoped that maybe his message would reach them in some way. By the time he finished, his eyes were already swollen.

Harry could picture their disbelieving faces if they could see him right now. Dobby would surely scurry toward him, holding tea or mopping his eyes as he gazed worriedly up at him. Mad-Eye Moody would probably start yelling "Constant Vigilance!" when he saw him in this miserable state, or Fred wound send him a toilet seat just to make him laugh again.

_I will see you all again... in time._

Before Harry could blink back another tear, the bodies before him slowly faded until they ceased to exist in his presence. Harry looked around frantically. He saw to his relief that memory-Snape was still there, though his dead body had vanished with the rest.

"They're gone," Harry stated worriedly. He was surprised to see Snape's lip curl into a small smile.

"The reason you're no longer seeing them," said Snape, his eyes flashing triumph as he watched Harry closely. "Is because you have finally accepted their deaths." He didn't wait for Harry to speak, adding, "It's time for me to leave as well."

Harry's worried look changed to panic. He didn't want to be left alone in this vast blackness. "Leave? But—"

"My task is finished," Snape replied with finality. "However, there is someone waiting for you."

"Who?"

But Snape didn't reply. He simply peered beyond Harry with eyes that Harry hadn't seen before, longing and happiness.

Harry turned around slowly to see what Snape was looking at. He caught sight of two people standing so far away from him that he couldn't make out who they were, but from their silhouettes Harry had a distinct feeling that he knew them.

"Are they—" Harry stopped when he looked back and found that Snape was no longer there. Harry's heart ached for a moment; now he was unable to express his gratitude for everything Snape had done for him.

"Thank you," he murmured into the black space where Snape had stood moments ago.

Heart thumping fast, Harry gazed back at the figures ahead of him, curious as to who they were and what could possibly happen next. Was he finally seeing his way out of there? Whatever it was, Harry's heart was overflowing with a mixture of excitement and foreboding.

**To be continued...**

* * *

**Beta-read by be11atrixthestrange, inspire change, KVeronicaP**


	25. Chapter 25

Harry's heart somersaulted against his ribs, and he had no idea why. He thought that maybe it was the prospect of finally returning to reality or seeing his friends. The only thing he was sure of was the fact that he had made it; he had reached the end of the trial, and he was going back at last to live life with the knowledge that his soul was undamaged. The figures he saw standing far away and waiting for him were surely his friends—he knew it.

Glancing back again to where Snape had disappeared, Harry couldn't help but crack a smile. Snape had helped him cope with his guilt, and without him he wouldn't be able to move on. He'd probably waste away his remaining life stuck in the vast blackness with nothing but self-condemnation as company, but he didn't have to dwell on it anymore; he was glad that it was all over.

Harry turned his attention back to the path straight ahead of him, only to realize he was suddenly surrounded by fog that created moisture when he rubbed his hands together. He stopped walking and looked around. When he couldn't see his surroundings clearly, he was certain that his eyes were deceiving him.

"Hermione! Ron!" Harry tried to call out to the figures he thought he saw earlier, hoping that they would show themselves right then and there. He waited a moment for them to appear, but his shoulders drooped when they—accompanied by a slight breeze—brushed past him.

Harry stared ahead, worried that he might have lost the two people he longed to see. He let out a sigh of relief, however, when he saw the figures still standing not far away from him now. When he attempted to take a step forward, the fog slowly dissipated, making his way clearer as he went.

A ray of sunlight unexpectedly illuminated him and his path, and he had to close his eyes for a few seconds to adjust to the sudden brightness when he approached the figure.

"Harry, we've been looking for you," a woman's soft but anxious voice spoke a few feet from him.

Harry blinked. That wasn't the voice he was expecting to hear from Hermione. Though it sounded a little familiar, he couldn't remember from whom or where he had heard it. He jerked his head up, trying to see through the bright light before him. He caught his breath when he spotted dark red hair. She also had bright green eyes that were extremely distinctive from his own.

"Mum?" he choked, gaping open-mouthed at Lily Potter who merely looked at him with concern. Harry stood rooted to the spot, his heart hammering fast. But before his mind could work out whom he was really seeing, he heard footsteps approaching beside him.

"Oh, _there_ you are!" cried a male voice this time.

Before Harry could turn, he felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked up and a complex mix of strong emotions came crashing over him; joy, sadness, fear, excitement, love—His breath caught in his throat, and he stood in stunned silence for he was standing right beside his father, James Potter.

"Dad," Harry said in a small faltering voice; his hand trembling.

"Well, Harry," said James, eyeing his son wearily. "Where have you been? I've searched all the shops here in Diagon Alley looking for you. I'd started to think you got lost or something..." He shook his head and continued. "But you're safe, and that's—" He stopped when he saw Harry's dumbstruck expression. "What? Why are you looking at me like that? Is there something wrong with my handsome face?'"

Harry blinked again.

"Of course there's nothing wrong with your face, dear," said Lily, frowning at her husband. She then rounded on Harry and said testily, "You had me and your dad worried, young man. We were looking at some owls, and suddenly you disappeared from behind me. Where did you go?" she asked sternly.

"I—" said Harry, uncertain of what to say. None of what was happening made sense to him. Earlier he thought he had finished the task and would finally be seeing Ron and Hermione, but why was he suddenly in front of his parents as though no time at all had passed? The way they stood there and talked to him, he felt as if they hadn't died that one Halloween by Voldemort's hand and been living with him since he was born. _What's going on?_

James seemed to have sensed Harry's discomfort; he cleared his throat and addressed his wife. "Lily, our son must've gotten too excited exploring Diagon Alley by himself. I mean, who wouldn't if it's your first time, right? Look at him... he looks dead on his feet." He smiled at Harry and gave him a wink.

_How can this be?_ Harry thought. How in the world did he end up here in Diagon Alley? _And_ with his parents? And what was his dad saying, "It's his first time"? He knew for a fact that he had been here before with Hagrid.

_Hang on,_ Harry told himself when he saw his reflection in a glass cabinet. Unless his eyes were playing tricks on him, his reflection looked different; he was small, skinny, and young like an eleven-year-old. Harry stared, horrorstruck, at himself. He stepped back, his heart pounding wildly.

"I know," said James with a worried glance in Harry's direction, misinterpreting the look on his son's face. "It's exhausting, isn't it? Don't worry, Son, we'll have lunch at the Leaky Cauldron in a jiffy."

Lily looked closely at Harry, placing a hand to his cheek. "You must be starving, Sweetheart."

"I—I'm fine," Harry mumbled. His voice, now that he had noticed it, had changed, too. It no longer sounded low and deep like a young man, instead it was slightly higher like someone placed a Caterwauling Charm in his voice.

"Nonsense," said Lily, dismissing Harry's reply with a wave of her hand. "I don't think you'd want to pass up the chance of drinking your favorite pumpkin juice and eating treacle tart, do you?"

Harry couldn't really feel his hunger at the moment, and how could he when everything was different and unclear? He wanted answers, but he doubted whether his parents knew what he would be asking for. Should he attempt and question them? What would they say if he suddenly asked about Voldemort? Before Harry could go on with his thoughts, he heard his dad from behind.

"Isn't she gorgeous?"

Harry turned around and saw his dad peering at a cage with a snowy owl perched inside it. "Hedwig!" he blurted without thinking.

"Hedwig?" James asked in bewilderment. "You know her?"

"I—I just," Harry stammered. "I just thought the name fits."

"Oh."

Harry winced at his dishonesty. He was well aware that he was unprepared for this world, and lying seemed to be the only option for now to get on without them becoming suspicious.

They quickly left the Eeylops Owl Emporium after purchasing the snowy owl; Lily insisted that Harry should have it instead of the rat his father would want him to have. At that precise moment, however, Harry wondered whether his parents knew Peter Pettigrew who happened to be an Animagus. But that thought ended when Harry found himself being steered left and right by his parents, who both seemed eager to show him around and lectured him about the different items of each shop. Their excitement was contagious and Harry was about ready to do anything with his parents by his side even though everything that had been happening to him was still black and white and confusing.

Just by observing his parents, Harry could already piece together what their personalities were like, and how he had naturally followed in their footsteps. While he certainly inherited James' wit, he was positively mild-mannered in comparison to his father, a trait which he presumed came from his mother.

"Now that's what I'm talking about!" James exclaimed excitedly, his eyes beaming at the window of Quality Quidditch Supplies where several broomsticks were on display.

Lily turned sharply in James' direction. "You've got to be kidding me!"

James raised his eyebrows. "What?"

"You've got plenty at home. You don't need any more."

"I didn't say I'd _buy_ it," he argued, looking scandalized. But he added in a low voice so that only Harry could hear, "For Harry I will."

Harry beamed at him, but he had to stop himself when he remembered he already got a Nimbus 2000, only it smashed on the Whomping Willow and was badly broken to pieces. With a sinking feeling, he thought of his Firebolt that he had lost. "It's fine, dad. You don't have to purchase it," he whispered.

"You're right," James said, looking sadly away from the display of broomsticks. "It's no good arguing with your mum. She'll skin me alive if I did." He shrugged. "But who cares? She won't be able to if we're up in the air and she isn't. We'll be hard to catch."

"She's got a wand, Dad." Harry reminded him, pointing at Lily's cloak where he could see the end of a stick poking out.

"Oh, right." James dropped the subject.

Looking curiously at his father, Harry couldn't help but be fascinated by how much he resembled him; James' hair was untidy like his own; he wore glasses as well on his thin face. Harry swore he could disguise himself as his father if age would let him.

Harry and his parents fought their way through the jostling crowd which, like them, was eager to do their shopping while at the same time admired the endless and interesting assortments of magical items they could lay their eyes on. Even though Harry was already familiar with most of them, it was satisfying to realize how exciting everything seemed to be when explained by his parents. James couldn't stop himself from whisking Harry to a nearby item each time and tell the tales of its uses without bothering to stop himself to breathe for a moment. Lily, on the other hand, would give side comments to either correct James if he got so full of himself or to share more knowledge on the matter.

Harry had the best time of his life with his parents. He had been dreaming about this moment ever since he had first walked into Diagon Alley at eleven years of age. What he would have given to have his parents with him then instead of Hagrid or his friends! And here he was, finally fulfilling the dream he had thought wasn't possible. He still couldn't fathom the oddness of it all. Was this still part of the ritual—a task he needed to take? The way his parents held his hands or rested their own on his shoulders, the way they hugged and kissed him on his cheeks ever so often, they felt so... real. He would gladly trade his old life for this. _Who wouldn't?_ Harry thoughtfully argued. He finally had his parents back and was that too much to ask?

They had just exited Mr. Ollivander's wand shop and were heading towards the Leaky Cauldron when Harry decided it was time to ask his parents about Voldemort. It had been driving him crazy, especially when Ollivander had rummaged for and found him a wand that was completely different from his own. Its core was no longer a phoenix feather; instead it was a unicorn's hair.

"Mum?" he asked apprehensively.

"Hmm?" Lily replied distractedly as she scanned the _Daily Prophet's_ newspaper cover that a wizard held in his hands.

"Do you know Vol—"

"Oh, I can't believe it!" Lily exclaimed, interrupting Harry's question while she looked at the newspaper with an awed expression. "He's done it!"

Harry looked bewildered. He turned his head to the paper and read the cover: **AT LAST! THE MUGGLE PRIME MINISTER IN ALLEGIANCE TO MINISTER TOM RIDDLE TO PROMOTE PEACE AND SAFETY FOR EVERYONE**

Harry's jaw dropped. He thought at first that he must've misread it. Tom Riddle, a Minister and promoting peace? And that wasn't all that was making Harry's head burst with disbelief, Tom was also promoting safety for everyone. Harry frowned. _How on earth could this have happened? Surely there must be some mistake._ Harry highly doubted that Voldemort would perform such noble acts; it wasn't in his character to do that. _But why?_ Harry wondered. _Is there some sort of hidden agenda between Tom Riddle and the Prime Minister?_

"What were you asking, Harry?" Lily had turned her attention back to him with a questioning look.

Still frowning, Harry shook his head. "It's nothing."

"He's amazing, isn't he?" Lily beamed, her eyes brimming with admiration at the picture of Tom Riddle shaking hands with the Prime Minister.

Harry raised his eyebrows, still in disbelief. "Has he always been like this?"

"'Like this' you mean an awesome old chap?" James interrupted, his eyes darting from the picture to Harry.

Harry nodded somewhat reluctantly, not entirely convinced that Tom Riddle was amazing in any way.

"Oh, yes..." his father answered thoughtfully. "He was the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement back when he was still young. Ruthless, he was! I never saw that side of him until I captured dark wizards and brought them to the Ministry."

Harry reeled backward. "You're an Auror?"

James glanced down at him. "What's with the look of surprise?" he said appraisingly. "You've seen and known all along that I'm an Auror, Son. You even told me you'd like to be one so you could show your support to Riddle as well, remember?"

Harry wanted to say "No," but he urged himself not to speak. Instead, he tilted his head back to stare at Tom Riddle's picture once more.

"Anyway," James continued as if Harry had not interrupted him in the first place. "Riddle despised them and the Dark Side, you see. He said he'd give his life just to get rid of this filth in our world… and then he became the next Minister. We're all so proud to have him take that position, I'm telling you."

Harry thought his father's words of praise didn't seem right. He still couldn't get his head around the fact that Voldemort was _against_ the Dark Side. He tore his eyes away from the picture, feeling as confused as ever.

Lily cleared her throat. "Yes. He and his wife, Bellatrix—"

"What?" Harry asked, shocked at the news. "Lestrange?"

"Er… yes," she replied, frowning at him. "I can't believe you've forgotten already, Harry. We invited the Minister and his wife to our house to celebrate your dad's promotion in his department, don't you remember? Riddle and your father used to work together as Aurors."

How many more shocking revelations Harry would've had to deal with? He didn't know whether he could take them any longer. This world had turned his head upside down, and he thought he'd explode. However staggering these pieces of news may seem to be for Harry, he couldn't deny the relief he felt upon knowing that no danger had struck his family—that they were altogether safe.

"I think I do now," Harry answered untruthfully, hiding the fact that he didn't have a clue or a single memory of this world, and instead, he felt numb at the idea that his parents were close to the Riddle's.

"Well, don't worry about that," said James with a smile while opening the door and entering the dark and shabby-looking Leaky Cauldron. "You're too young to remember stuff well, anyway."

It was impossible to find seats; it was packed with people all having their lunches. But James, Lily, and Harry found a table for themselves in a corner. It was so convenient, Harry thought the table magically conjured itself there.

Harry sat silently, watching his surroundings with interest. He couldn't stop himself, though, from feeling like an outcast, but he strangely welcomed it, knowing that he could finally go wherever he wanted without being gawked at and talked about at mealtimes as the Chosen One who killed Voldemort.

Without warning, a family with unmistakable, silvery white-blonde hair entered the pub. Lucius Malfoy scanned the place for a moment before his eyes landed on the Potters. His lip curled suddenly into a sneer.

Harry narrowed his eyes. He felt a hot surge of anger as the Malfoy family drew closer to where they sat.

"Well… well… well," said Mr. Malfoy slowly when he reached their table. "If it isn't the famous Head Auror."

James stood up abruptly, and Harry thought for a moment that his father would whip his wand and curse Mr. Malfoy right then and there. He stared at his surroundings looking alarmed, but people seemed to be minding their own business to notice anything else.

"Lucius," James acknowledged coldly, his eyes locked at Mr. Malfoy as he strode over to him.

Harry's stomach gave a huge jolt when Mr. Malfoy and James suddenly burst into laughter and embraced each other like brothers. He stared at them, open-mouthed.

"Come join us!" Lily said brightly to the Malfoy family before turning to Harry. "Can you pull up some more chairs, Dear?"

But Mrs. Malfoy shook her head vigorously, stopping Harry from getting up. "Oh, no need for that. We only came to say hello."

"Leaving already?" James asked, glancing incredulously at her. "We rarely see each other nowadays."

"I know," Mrs. Malfoy responded sadly. "Lucius got a huge job in France and we're heading there this afternoon. We only thought to come by Diagon Alley to purchase what we needed for the trip when Draco here—" Draco waved shyly at them before hiding behind his mother's back. "—saw you come in here."

"Are you sure we can't keep you from leaving so soon?" Lily asked with a hopeful look at Mr. Malfoy.

"Sorry, Lily," Mr. Malfoy replied with an apologetic look. "It's quite urgent, and we need to leave right away. Next time, perhaps?"

Harry could have sworn loudly that there shouldn't be a next time, but he didn't voice it out and kept his head down.

"Of course," James said approvingly. "I wouldn't want to miss that, would I?"

Mr. Malfoy snorted derisively. "No, I daresay you wouldn't. You have an indefinite amount of achievements to boast about that I'm sure will ruin your big ego if not shared quickly with friends."

James laughed. "You still haven't changed, Lucius. Always a downer, you are! Well," he patted him on the shoulder. "I won't prolong this conversation. Don't forget to bring us back some souvenirs, okay?" He winked at him.

Lucius rolled his eyes before turning around to leave. His wife and son followed behind him after giving James and Lily a hug. Harry had to hesitantly smile at Draco when he looked at him before they walked away.

James sat back down on his chair, grinning. "Lucky man. I always wanted to go to France." And then he glanced at Harry with a curious look on his face. "Why were you so quiet, son? I was expecting you and Draco to catch up."

Harry gaped at his father. _Since when had I become friends with Malfoy?_

As if James had read his mind, he said, "We used to visit their manor all the time when they were in the area. You were always so eager to see him."

"Inseparable, you two!" Lily piped in.

"I—I was just," Harry stammered.

"I understand," said James with a nod. "Seeing him for the first time after a very long time can make you apprehensive."

Harry didn't speak, and James suddenly changed the subject. He held the menu in his hand and scanned through it. "I wonder if they have new lunch specials… Oh, I could do with a Toad in the Hole and Tongue Tying Lemon Squash—that sounds delicious."

By the time they finished lunch, Harry couldn't believe how much food he had eaten. He could feel his stomach bulging from under the table. He felt drowsy, too. He kept closing his eyes and opening them again. _Must be the effect of overeating,_ he told himself when he shut his eyes for the tenth time.

After a while, he felt someone shaking him gently.

"Wake up, sleepyhead," said the voice of his mother. "You can have a nap later when we get back home."

Harry groaned and opened his eyes, expecting to see the crowded pub. He was startled at the sudden sunlight hitting his eyes. He blinked. He was no longer at the Leaky Cauldron. Instead he was standing in line outside of Flourish and Blotts. He couldn't have slept that heavily.

Lily stood beside him and was rummaging for something in her bag when Harry spoke. "Mum, what are we doing here? What happened at the Leaky Cauldron?" Astounded, Harry found his voice deepened slightly.

"What are you talking about, sweetie?" Lily asked, looking bewildered. "We haven't been at the pub just yet. We only just got here to get your books."

Harry frowned. "Books? But didn't we just buy them earlier?"

Lily stared at him. "Don't be silly. We haven't bought anything yet. Your Lockhart books this year are quite a lot and expensive." She frowned, looking impatient at the closed sign hanging at the door. "I think we arrived too early."

Harry scratched his head. "Lockhart?" He was well aware that his former professor was being cared for at St. Mungo's. _Had he been released?_

"Yes. Isn't he your Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?"

"But... what about Quirell?"

"Quirell?" Lily asked with a raised eyebrow. "You never had a professor named Quirell. Gilderoy Lockhart has always been your teacher." She brought her hand to Harry's shoulder with a concerned look on her face. "Are you alright, Love?"

Harry stared at the paper with list of books he hadn't known he was holding in his hand; one book was labeled Defensive Magical Theory Year 2. Harry was shocked to see that he was starting his second year at Hogwarts. _How could that have happened?_ One minute he was shopping with his parents at Diagon Alley before his first term started in September, and suddenly time seemed to have moved faster than a Cornish Pixie that he couldn't remember what had transpired in the past year.

With a confused look on his face, Harry put the piece of paper back into his pocket; his mum still eyeing him worriedly. He didn't know whether to tell her his dilemma or just go with the flow and see what happened next. It had been driving him crazy ever since he'd been there—in this world that was completely different from his own. He wanted answers or assurance that what he was dealing with at the moment was either just a task he needed to complete, or if this world was truly real and the memories he had were merely a figment of his imagination.

"Your school robes are way too short for you now," said Lily as though mentally measuring Harry's height. "I can't believe how much you've grown." She craned her neck on the other side of the street and said, "Oh, Madam Malkin's just opened. How about I take care of your books so you could buy a new set of robes? That way we can go home early."

Nodding, Harry strode towards Madam Malkin's while still in deep thought. He entered and only a few people were being measured. Harry stood in front of the counter, waiting for Madam Malkin who seemed to be in a bad mood already.

"You there!" Madam Malkin called to Harry, beckoning him to stand on a footstool. "Come over here and wait for me."

Harry did as he was told, conscious of the others standing on both sides of him who were looking jaded.

"Don't move too much, dears!" said a woman on Harry's left who seemed to be the mother of the twin boys with red hair.

Harry's mouth hung open. If he hadn't looked properly, he wouldn't be able to recognize Mrs. Weasley, who was eyeing who he thought were Fred and George sternly. Her hair was in a tight bun, and she wore a lime green robe that Harry knew too well as the uniform for Healers in St. Mungo's Hospital.

"Mrs. Weasley?" he asked in surprise.

Mrs. Weasley turned, but she didn't seem to recognize him. "Yes? Can I help you?"

"Uh—" Harry began. "Don't you remember me?" When Mrs. Weasley only stared at him with a blank expression, he quickly added, "I'm a friend of Ron's."

She furrowed her brow. "Ron?"

Harry nodded, wondering why Mrs. Weasley looked bewildered. "Yes, your son."

"I don't know anyone named Ron, dear." She eyed him apologetically. "I'm sorry, but you must be mistaken."

"No, no! I'm—I'm sorry."

"That's alright, dear." She turned her attention to her children, who gave him funny looks but didn't say anything.

"Okay, Harry," said a familiar voice from behind Harry. "Turn around so I can see you properly."

Harry craned his head and saw James Potter striding towards him, wearing a sophisticated-looking dress robe. "Dad, what are you wearing?"

"Do you like it?" James asked with a smile. "I want us to be identical, but your mother thought it would ruin your night."

Harry swore that none of what his father said made sense to him. "I'm getting new school robes, Dad, not dress robes."

James frowned at him. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm waiting for Madam Malkin to measure me up," he replied, turning his head back. But he was surprised to see his reflection in the mirror wearing handsome, dark green dress robes. He looked older, too, like a fourteen year old. He gaped, open-mouthed when he saw that he was no longer in Madam Malkin's shop, but instead he was at Hogwarts. He recognized the Gryffindor boys' dormitory. "How—"

James chuckled, patting Harry's shoulder. "You're just nervous, and that's normal of course when attending your first Yule Ball. Mind you, I miss parties like these. Good thing parents are invited to attend such occasion."

Harry was highly disconcerted at the sudden change. He couldn't work his head around what had happened. One moment he was talking to Mrs. Weasley, and then seconds later he was with his father who seemed oblivious to anything Harry was going through.

Harry swallowed hard. "Dad—"

But James was already steering him out of the room. "Come on, son. You don't want your date to wait any longer."

They descended the stairs that led to the Gryffindor common room. Harry expected it to be packed with students, but upon arrival, his mouth fell open once again; he was standing, not in Gryffindor common room, but at Hogsmeade. Right in front of him was the Three Broomsticks. He shivered slightly, realizing there was snow everywhere.

"Get in, Harry," Lily said brightly from behind him. "We're meeting your dad and Sirius there. Oh, I can't wait to take a sip of that Butterbeer. I'm freezing, aren't you?"

"Si—Sirius?" Harry asked in disbelief.

"Yes, your godfather is probably waiting for us."

Harry was certain that his head was going to explode yet again. He was left unprepared, and his emotions had been going haywire. How many more surprises was he going to take? He wasn't complaining, though. He'd very much liked to be here with everyone, most especially his parents, but he couldn't help but wonder what was going on. He had no memories of what had happened in between scenes, and was not given a chance to react before everything would change once again.

When they entered the inn, Harry immediately caught sight of a boy waving enthusiastically at him.

"Oh, good," said Lily, spotting the boy. "Teddy's here."

"Teddy?" Harry asked, bemused. "You don't mean—"

"Lupin and Tonks must be here somewhere," she said distractedly, looking around.

Harry's jaw dropped. His mother must've been joking. The boy who was still overly flailing his arms excitedly couldn't have been Teddy Lupin. _He was already like, seven years old_. _Isn't he living with his grandmother, Andromeda?_ he asked himself.

"So good to see you, Sweetie!" said Lily, hugging Teddy.

Harry stood awkwardly to their side, unable to register what he was seeing at the moment.

"Harry!" Teddy exclaimed happily, engulfing him in a tight embrace.

Lily chuckled. "You missed your big brother, haven't you, Ted?"

Teddy nodded earnestly.

They sat themselves comfortably around the table. Harry glanced every now and then to Teddy to take a good look at him. He still couldn't believe that the baby he had once known had grown so fast. But then again, he reminded himself that this world was very different from his.

"Where are your parents, Ted?" Lily asked curiously.

"Daddy's coming from work," he replied. "And mommy's—there she is!" Teddy gestured past Harry, his smile widening.

When Harry whirled his body to look, he gasped—

He found himself looking at an obelisk. He allowed his mind to fall into place as he registered the change of scenery. Light shone from the streetlamps, and judging by the semi-darkness, Harry thought it was nighttime. Silvery white moonlight sparkled in the ground, and as he looked up, stars twinkled with light like pearls, adorning the dark blue night sky. Harry, once again, was utterly perplexed. It felt strange to be back in Godric's Hollow. He took deep breaths as he tried to calm himself.

"Why do you look all dazed?" said a voice Harry didn't have problems recognizing in an instant. He looked up to see James peering down at him.

Harry's eyes lingered for a moment on his father, who was starting to look worried when he didn't speak.

"What's wrong, Son?"

Harry inhaled deeply. "Dad…" He paused, thinking of how best to open up his thoughts.

"You must be wondering what's going on," said James as though reading his mind. "I knew your mother and I shouldn't have kept it quiet. I told her many times you'd notice."

Heart beating fast, Harry nodded. He knew it! He knew there was something going on in this world, and his father had no choice but to reveal it to him.

"But don't tell your mother anything, all right? Because you're not supposed to know."

Harry nodded again, his anticipation mounting.

James took a deep breath. "The thing is, Harry… We've decided to throw a birthday party for you this evening at home," he blurted out.

Harry's mouth fell open. "Wh—what?"

"Yes, Son. We know you don't like parties and all, but you just turned seventeen!" he said excitedly. "But before you get mad at us, we want you to know that everyone's gonna be there... even my dear old friend, Severus."

Harry sighed. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. He was disappointed at the unexpected answer given by his father.

"I knew it'd make you speechless," said James, misinterpreting Harry's silence. "Not everyone gets to have a big celebration when they turn seventeen."

Harry didn't know what to say or feel at the moment. He wanted to be in a happy mood just like the one his father was in, but he couldn't bring himself to feel that way. Instead, his body trembled with fear that something was about to happen; a feeling that everything would disappear once again.

"Harry?" his father whispered. "Something tells me that you're not happy about the party. We don't have to—"

"I am." Harry cut him off quickly, regretting the sad look he must've unintentionally let slip to his father. "I'm sorry… I'm just—" He hesitated. The entire situation troubled him more deeply than he let on. He sighed and finally cleared his throat. "It doesn't really matter, Dad. What you and Mum are doing is fine."

"Are you sure?"

Harry gave a curt nod and plastered a smile across his face.

A look of satisfaction flashed across his father's face before he glanced at his watch. "I think we'd better go home or your mum's gonna go berserk if she finds out you're missing your birthday."

Together they walked steadily along the street, passing the church and the graveyard that stood nearby. He remembered visiting his parents' graves as well as how suffocating it had felt for him to see their names on the headstones. Now, it seemed as though it was all just a dream—a nightmare. He glanced sideways. It was incredible to see his father walking beside him, full of energy and very much alive.

When they turned a corner, Harry caught sight the familiar-looking cottage that stood at the very end of the street. It looked very different from how Harry remembered it; there were no weeds covering the entire front lawn but instead, flowers of different kinds lined neatly in the flowerbed; the once empty and dark house was now bright—with all its windows glazed in light from within; and most of all, the upper part of the house where Harry's bedroom was located, was intact and not blown apart.

"Well," said James. "Here we are."

Harry's emotions wavered at the sight of the house. He blinked several times, trying to suppress the tears leaking from his eyes. His gaze landed on the large front window, and he suddenly felt a tremendous wave of emotion. He could no longer deny the simple truth that for the first time in seventeen years, he'd felt like he'd finally come home.

Inside were a dozen or so people whom Harry had not seen for quite some time. Most of them were sitting around the table, chatting merrily as though no time had passed. Among them was Sirius Black, who was talking animatedly to Remus Lupin. Nymphadora Tonks, on the other hand, was showing Lavender Brown and Colin Creevey how she could morph her hair from neon to garish; Harry could hear their non-stop laughter. Cedric Diggory and Fred Weasley seemed to be discussing Quidditch when Fred made a hand zooming gesture as though catching a snitch. Meanwhile, at the far end of the table, sat Severus Snape, Mad-Eye Moody, and Albus Dumbledore who were conversing silently with smiles on their faces. Out of nowhere, Dobby appeared at the door behind Sirius, carrying trays of food and, at the same time, levitating some more as he went by. For the first time, Harry was surprised to see Dobby wearing decent-looking clothes and shoes that fit his size well. He even wore a party hat for the occasion to round off the look.

The front door opened suddenly and Lily Potter dashed out, looking relieved to see her son and her husband.

"Oh, thank goodness you're both here!" she exclaimed while making her way towards the front gate and opening it. "I've been having panic attacks looking and wondering where you both have disappeared to." She beckoned them to come inside. "Come on. Everyone's waiting."

Harry followed behind his father, but before he as much as stepped over the threshold, he stopped and wondered whether he ought to talk to his parents before losing the opportunity completely.

"Honey?" Lily asked, looking bewildered at Harry, who made no move to step inside.

James turned to look. "What's wrong, Son? Did you forget something?"

Harry shook his head and eyed his parents apprehensively. They must've sensed his unspoken emotion. They retreated back outside, leaving the front door open.

"Harry?" Lily asked again, a hint of worry now evident in her voice. "What's the matter? Are you nervous about the party?"

The question helped Harry regain his bearings, and he took a tiny step backward. "I'm not nervous," he said. "I'm just—" He met his parents' eyes as though seeing them for the first time. "I just don't want this to end."

"Oh, Sweetie," said Lily. She gently touched his arm with a reassuring smile, and Harry felt the sudden warmth of her hands. "I know it's different. Everybody feels the same way when they turn of age, but nothing's going to end. You'll always be our little boy."

James nodded, moving closer.

Harry bowed his head, and his shoulders drooped. How could he ever tell his parents what was going through his mind? How could he ever tell them the truth of his past?

His face must have telegraphed his feelings when Lily said, "I take it that wasn't what's bothering you?"

Harry hesitated for a moment before finally saying in an audible whisper, "No."

His parents exchanged worried glances with each other before turning their attention back to him. Harry decided it was time.

"I've missed you both," he began with his hands trembling ever so slightly.

Eyebrows furrowed, James said, "We've always been with you, Son."

Harry shook his head vehemently. "It's not that." He inhaled sharply before speaking again. "You and Mum—you've not been with me for seventeen years. You both died when I was one," Harry blurted out before he could stop himself.

A silence stretched between them, and Harry swallowed. Talking about his parents' deaths was always hard for him. He knew he'd been lying to himself in thinking that he'd moved on. He hadn't. It was one thing, after all, to know that his longing to have parents hadn't changed; it was another thing entirely to face the future with the certainty that it could never ever happen.

"I've… I've never known you until now," he muttered quietly. "Back when I saw you and Dad in Diagon Alley to purchase my owl was the first time I ever truly saw you both—alive and well. You have no idea how—how much that moment meant to me." He swallowed again with great effort, aware that tears were forming in his eyes.

The night breeze picked up, moving through the leaves on the trees like rolling ocean waves. Perhaps it was Harry's shocking revelation that rendered his parents speechless, but he knew they were taking in every word he was saying.

"It was cruel to the point that I'm only deceiving myself," he continued slowly. "I allowed myself to go on with this life because I wanted both of you so badly to be real. It was a struggle to live each day knowing that I don't have parents to ask for comfort or reassurance. I never had that chance, you see... and now you're right in front of me like you never left."

Harry brought his hand on top of his mother's, feeling the solid contact of their skin. The familiar, deep-seated ache—a sadness he knew would never go away—engulfed him.

"It made me wonder how much I'm _missing_ when I'm with you and Dad. I never thought a time like this would come when I can hear your voices, or even feel your embraces." His voice broke, and he cleared his throat. "It's made me so happy to the point that I don't want this moment to disappear because I know it's only a matter of time before I lose you both again and I'll be alone."

The moon peeked through the dark clouds, lending an ethereal cast to the entire cottage, illuminating its beauty. Harry stared at his parents, his eyes capturing bits and pieces of the moonlight. He had imagined this moment, the kind of life he knew he'd really wanted. He tried to draw strength from looking at them—looking at what could've been a happy family, but fear was trying to take over, and he felt paralyzed.

"You'll never have to face your troubles alone again, son," said James softly.

Lily reached over and touched his cheek gently. "You've done enough, Sweetheart. I can see it in your eyes how much you've suffered… how tired you are… We promise that you'll never have to deal with your worries by yourself ever again because we'll always be with you. Forever."

Harry bowed his head and blinked back tears. Everything his mother had said was true, and he was about ready to give up all the aches and pains of his past life. He wanted nothing more than to get rid of them completely and be happy with his parents for a change. The feeling of separation from his parents had only grown stronger. That realization had been disconcerting when he first stepped into this world, but Harry now understood that. There were no other choices. Love, after all, always said more about those who felt it than it did about the ones he loved.

_Forever…_ Harry could feel the strength of that promise now, filling the distance between him and his parents of the years they'd been apart. He had the strange sense that it was calling to him, urging him to listen. He knew on some level that they had been waiting for him, just as he'd been waiting for them. Harry couldn't imagine never seeing them again; he couldn't release his parents to become nothing but a memory. Fate—in the form of the ritual—had intervened, and when he first met his parents in Diagon Alley, he knew there'd been a reason for it. All of this had to mean something.

The laughter that Harry had been hearing from inside the cottage had stopped, and when he lifted his head to look at his parents again, he saw that his godfather, Lupin, Tonks, Fred, Snape, and everyone else had gathered at the front door as though welcoming him inside. From all the years Harry had spent with them, it was in this moment that he knew he was seeking the solace of their company, that which he wouldn't be able to find from anyone else.

A distant memory, liquid and blurry at first, suddenly began to crystallize in Harry's mind, one that led to Ron and Hermione and the Weasley family with whom he had been spending his life. He'd been content with his friends. Maybe not perfectly happy, maybe a bit isolated, but content. And Ginny—a hard knot formed in the pit of his stomach. _How could I have forgotten about her?_ He had Ginny who cared for him—who loved him—despite his difficult place in the world.

"Come home, Love, " said Lily, breaking Harry's thoughts.

Harry could see all of them waiting patiently for him. Somehow, deep down, he wanted to join them so he never had to look back at his old life. He could be happy here and make new memories. But despite his utmost desire, the life he had known was something he couldn't let go of. It was a long and sometimes discouraging road, but he knew within himself that he'd be okay no matter what.

Harry gave a sad smile before taking another step back. He took in all the faces looking his way, reminding himself how lucky he was to have had the chance to get to know them. Time wouldn't be able to diminish his memories of them. They all did what they could to support and protect him and had renewed his life in a way he'd never imagined possible. And as his eyes fell upon his parents, Harry had to agree wholeheartedly with Dumbledore that their love had given him the resolve he needed to make it through his remaining life.

Harry had come to realize that he now had the answer to the question that he'd been pondering ever since he first arrived at this world. The events had given him the chance to experience life with his parents and had shown him how his life could've been if they were still alive. It was somehow cruel but satisfying at the same time, and he couldn't have asked for more. He was grateful for that chance.

With a steady rhythm in his chest, Harry smiled a true smile even though his throat had tightened a bit. He ran back up to Lily and James and gave them a quick hug. "Thank you," was all he could say to them.

When Harry let go of the hug, an unspoken understanding drifted across Lily and James' faces. They no doubt knew that Harry wouldn't stay, that he had to go back, even if they had no idea it was forever.

"We love you more than you'll ever know," said Lily, giving Harry's arm a gentle squeeze.

"I know," said Harry. "And I love you both, too."

In the moonlight, the smiles on his parents' faces were the last thing Harry saw before their outlines and everything else surrounding him faded slowly into inky blackness. He closed his eyes as tears formed beneath his lashes, for he knew that he would never hear his parents' voices, feel their hugs, or see their loving faces ever again.

Once again, Harry found himself falling back through endless dark space. He kept his eyes closed and took deep breaths, allowing some courage to flow through himself. He began to feel for his body as well, assuring himself that it was still intact.

Just when Harry thought the blackness and stillness would never end, his senses began to wake up when he heard distant voices. He couldn't make out what they were saying, but they seemed to be arguing. Just then, he heard the sound of waves, and felt a gentle, salty wind brushing his hair. Harry struggled to lift his heavy eyelids, and he was startled to feel his eyes wet with tears. _Why?_ he wondered, trying to remember the reason, but he somehow couldn't.

Frantic whispers erupted around him again, and Harry felt the familiar warmth of a hand holding his. He understood then that, from the moment he opened his eyes, he was home.

**THE END**

**Beta-read by Legacy of Hecate, inspire change, KVeronicaP**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, I'd like to thank all of my readers and reviewers who remained so nice and patient with me and for supporting this little story of mine. Honestly, your feedbacks are my life source. You don't know how much of that mean to me. Also, to all of my beta readers, thank you for everything! I've learned so much from all of you. I think I've gotten better in writing because of your teachings, and I'm very much grateful. So hats off to all of you!
> 
> Second of all, if you still haven't read my previous Harry Potter stories which are "A Love at Stake" and "Troubled Mind", please do so if you're interested.
> 
> Lastly, I'm currently writing a new Harry Potter story and when I'm done I will publish it as soon as possible. If you'd like to know what it is, here's the synopsis: Harry Potter dreams that someone close to him is in the Veil. Tempted to know who and for what reason, Harry let the dreams continue. Until one night, he discovers that something grave is about to transpire. He's determined to know why, even though the task is impossible to begin with.
> 
> Again, a big THANK YOU for taking time to read. I rarely ask for reviews, but since this is the last chapter, I'd really like to know what you think.
> 
> Anyway, let's meet again in my next story, shall we?
> 
> May you all have a merry holiday and wonderful new year! Stay safe, everyone. Cheers! -Khauro


End file.
